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MASTER ADAM, THE CALABRIAN 



MASTER ADAM 
THE CALABRIAN 

By ALEXANDRE DUMAS 

Translated by Harry A. Spurr 



R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 
9 AND II East Sixteenth Street, New York 


1902 


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DUaIj^ <^XXo No. 

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Copyright, 1902, by 

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Master Adaniy the Calabrian, 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Preface 7 

CHAP. 

I. The Speaking Madonna 11 

II. The Post-office 29 

III. Fra Bracalonk 44 

ly. Marco Brandi 63 

y. “The Commander” 76 

yi. Bandit by Divine Right 93 

yil. The Three Sous of Compere Matteo 106 

yill. The Grecian Cap 120 

IX. Souls in Purgatory 132 

X. The Earthquake 145 

XI. Devotion 159 

XII. The Wedding Dress 173 

XIII. The yiATicuM 183 


Prologue by Way of Epilogue— St. Philomela. 194 





PREFACE 


In asking the public to accept the original of the 
following translation as a '‘genuine Dumas/’ I am 
aware that some explanation and justification is 
necessary. So much of what is attributed to Dumas 
w^as obviously written by the vastly inferior pens 
of his apprentices, that publishers and public alike 
have grown shy. The position was made worse re- 
cently by the issue of two stories, previously well 
known to students of Dumas, which purported to be 
newly discovered and translated. The situation is 
further confused by the fact that eminent firms pub- 
lish under his name romances, such as the “Two 
Dianas,” which were notoriously not written by 
Dumas at all. 

I can offer two kinds of proof, both necessarily 
circumstantial and inferential, in support of the gen- 
uineness of “Master Adam.” It is not easy, even for 
the student, to trace the origin of all this fertile 

7 


PEEFACE 


writer^s productions, and we shall probably never 
quite know, from legal, indisputable proof, exactly 
what he did write, or inspire, and what he did not. 

‘‘Master Adam'’ is translated from an edition of 
Dumas, published in Brussels, and assuming to be a 
complete, chronologically published edition of his 
writings. It bears date 1840 — the year in which 
the story first appeared. Dumas visited Naples in 
1835, and if we are to believe our author, in his last 
chapter, he heard the leading incidents of the 
story from the lips of a guide. These were the days 
before the great author’s labors had multiplied and 
led him to keep a staff — he was now half way be- 
tween his dramatic and his romantic successes. No 
doubt he “wrote the story up” from the material thus 
afforded him. 

The other kind of proof is stronger, and is con- 
tained in the matter and manner of the narrative it- 
self. The translator has been unfortunate indeed, 
if he has not reconveyed at least some of the sly 
humor in “Master Adam.” The incidents of the 
speaking Madonna, of Fra Bracalone’s foretaste of 
purgatory, of compere Matteo and the three sous, 
and lastly of Saint Philomela’s miracle — all these. 


PEEFACE 


9 


to the palate cultivated by the best romances of 
Dumas, are recognizable as his own. An excellent 
example of the true and the “false” Dumas is af- 
forded by the volume of Messrs. Dent's admirable 
series, containing “The Brigand,” and “ Blanche de 
Beaulieu.” The reader, passing from the former, 
which is “journeyman Dumas,” to the latter, which 
is the real article, will instantly perceive the differ- 
ence. If he does not, no arguments of mine can con- 
vince him of the genuineness of the following story. 

Harry A. Spurr. 


& 


f 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


CHAPTER I 

THE SPEAKING MADONNA 

If our readers feel any curiosity respecting the 
future events of the truthful history which we are 
about to tell them, they must have the kindness to 
follow us to Calabria, a province to which we have 
already taken them twice — once to relate the adven- 
tures of Cherubino and Celestini ; and on the other 
occasion, to be present at the death of Murat. 

Calabria is a magnificent country ; in the summer 
it roasts you as thoroughly as if you were in Tim- 
buctoo; in the winter it freezes you as uncompro- 
misingly as St. Petersburg does. Further, one does 


11 


12 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAN 

not reckon time there as one does in other countries, 
by years, by lustres or by centuries, but by earth- 
quakes. 

In spite of this, few people are so attached to their 
country as the Calabrians. This is due, no doubt, 
to the fact that the surface which covers this volcanic 
land is most picturesque ; its valleys are as fertile as 
gardens; its mountains as well wooded as forests. 
From time to time, above the tops of the chestnut 
trees which dominate the view, one catches a glimpse 
of a ruddy peak towering into the sky like a column 
of granite scarred by the lightning, and the traveller 
fancies that he is drawing nigh to some dwelling of 
the Cyclops. 

It is true that in this beautiful and prosperous 
country one cannot be sure that either its prosperity 
or its beauty will last. Etna and Vesuvius have 
never seriously accepted the separation between 
Sicily and the mainland, and these two old friends 
have preserved such frequent subterranean relations 
with each other as to prove that the very best under- 
standing exists between them. As a result, every 
time they place themselves in communication with 
each other the peninsula skips like the little hills in 


THE SPEAKING MADONNA 


13 


Scripture,* not with joy but with terror; the valleys 
expand into mountains, the mountains sink into val- 
leys, and towns disappear into some gulf, which 
closes as soon as it opens, so that the eagle, soaring 
above an earth which is for the moment as unstable 
and agitated as the sea which surrounds it, no longer 
recognizes the Calabria of yesterday. In a night the 
face of the earth is changed, from Reggio as far as 
Pastum. It is the Almighty’s terrible kaleidoscope. 

Thanks to the mobility of the soil on which they 
live, the Calabrians not only possess no history, (for 
it is very rarely that the archives of one century 
descend intact to the next), but there are even people 
who know neither their age nor their name. These, 
as children, have escaped almost alone from the catas- 
trophe which overwhelmed the rest of their village; 
and if the barbers who brought them into the world 
or the priests who baptized them have not survived, 
there are no means of learning any facts about their 
origin. Such a child, when older, may pick up here 
and there some vague ideas respecting the time when 
it was born, and the family to which it belonged, 
from people of the surrounding villages ; but its true 


* Psalms, cxiv, 4. 


14 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


age dates from the time of the earthquake, and its 
real family is that which has adopted it. 

Master Adam, the hero of our story, was a living 
example of the reality of these strange occurrences. 

If our readers wish to make the acquaintance of 
this estimable person, to whom we are going to call 
their protracted attention, they have only to cast 
their eyes upon the steep and rugged road which 
leads from NicOtera to Monteleone. They will see 
there, marching gaily along under the hot August 
sun, a man of from fifty to fifty-five years of age, 
dressed in velvet jacket and trousers, whose original 
color is exceedingly difficult to detect, owing to the 
different layers of paint which have successively 
covered it. The pocket of his fob contains, instead 
of the ordinary knife which his fellow-countrymen 
are in the habit of carrying, some much more pa- 
cific weapons, to wit, a bundle of brushes and pencils 
of all sizes, whilst round his belt, in place of pistols, 
he carries a varied assortment of the crude and glar- 
ing colors which his primitive clients prefer to the 
softer and more artistic tints. 

A gourd is slung from his neck like a bandolier, 
containing, however, neither Lipari nor Catanzaro 


THE SPEAKING MADONNA 15 

wine, but gummed water, which serves the double 
purpose of quenching his thirst a trifle more palata- 
bly than ordinary water, and of helping to fix his 
vermilion or indigo tint a little more permanently. 
The cane with which he is armed, and which, like the 
national carbine, he carries across his shoulder with 
such a martial air, is nothing more alarming than the 
innocent wand which painters call a maulstick. 

This man, whose form is so athletic, whose step 
is so light and free, and whose glance is so careless 
and merry, was found on the 21st of July, 1764, 
a naked and howling baby, on the roadside a quarter 
of a league from the village of Maida, a hamlet 
which had disappeared the previous night, like one 
of those cursed cities over which the wrath of God 
has passed. Rescued by the peasants of Nicotera, 
but too young to tell them how he had come there, 
he was given, no doubt in commemoration of his ob- 
scure origin, the name of the first of men. 

We have now to complete our explanation of his 
name, by explaining how and when he received the 
dignifying title of ^'Master.” 

Young Adam, whose years were dated from the 
day of his discovery, and who therefore robbed Time 


16 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


of a year or eighteen months, had been at first des- 
tined by his adopted parents for a shepherd’s life — 
a post of responsibility in a territory like Calabria, 
where wool forms, with oil, the sole riches of the 
country. But he was not long in showing how little 
taste he possessed for the pleasures of that pastoral 
life so poetically dear to Theocritus. Instead he, 
like Giotto, found pleasure in sketching on the sand 
outlines of men, trees and animals, and if the studio 
of a second Cimabue had been open to him, perhaps 
he too would have become a great artist. Unhappily, 
the master was lacking for this pupil, and, lacking 
the opportunity to study and to develop his natural 
powers, young Adam remained a “dauber” all his life. 

But to call him a ‘‘dauber” is to look at the matter 
solely from the point of view of “high art,” and al- 
though the worthy painter whom we have treated 
thus disrespectfully would probably be despised in 
Paris, London or Rome, he was, for his place and 
people, a very distinguished artist, whose produc- 
tions enjoyed at one time such a reputation that the 
Neapolitan police felt themselves obliged to inter- 
fere. How our hero came to cause such anxiety to 
those paternal authorities we may here relate. 


THE SPEAKING MADONNA 


17 


Master Adam, by virtue of a number of more or 
less picturesque signboards which he had decorated, 
had already merited his honorable prefix, when the 
counter-revolution of 1798 occurred. Ferdinand 
and Carolina, pursued by the French, had retired to 
Sicily under the protection of Nelson, and transfer- 
ring the seat of government to Palermo, had aban- 
doned Naples to Champronnet, who forthwith pro- 
claimed the Parthenopean Republic. 

Unhappily for the newly enfranchised Neapoli- 
tans, the half-dethroned king found in one of his 
court. Cardinal Ruffo, a man of resolution, who un- 
dertook to win back the throne for its legitimate 
monarch. He landed in Calabria, and in the name 
of the Holy Faith summoned to his side all who re- 
mained faithful to old Royalist principles. Five or 
six hundred men gathered at the first call, and the 
audacious cardinal judged that this force would be 
sufficient. As he needed only a flag round which to 
rally his soldiers be,fore taking to the field, he asked 
for an artist to paint on his standard the image of 
our Lady of Mount Carmel, to whose protection he 
had committed his enterprise. 

Master Adam was at this time in the prime of 


18 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

his life and his talent. He confidently offered his 
services to Ruffo, and executed the Madonna re- 
quired with a promptitude and enthusiasm which 
satisfied his leader both as churchman and politician. 
The general-and-prelate offered, in his double capac- 
ity, to give the artist such rewards, temporal and 
spiritual, as he might desire. For the first. Master 
Adam begged for the cardinal’s benediction ; and for 
the second, the sole right of painting Madonnas and 
souls-in-purgatory on all the white walls for ten 
leagues round. 

This double request, audacious as it appeared to 
the listeners, was instantly granted, and when Ruffo 
had reconquered the kingdom and recalled his royal 
master and mistress. Master Adam, who had con- 
tributed with all his might to this end, enjoyed with- 
out dispute the privilege which his patriotism and 
fidelity had won for him. 

Such of our readers as have traveled through 
Italy and observed the devotion shown by the Nea- 
politan and Calabrian peasantry for holy images and 
portraits, will easily comprehend the importance of 
Master Adam’s monopoly. Every convent which 
desired to have a new Madonna painted, or an old 


THE SPEAKING MADONNA 


19 


one ‘Touched up/’ was obliged to have recourse to 
our artist. But Master Adam, as he possessed no 
rival, imposed conditions which took the form of a 
right to make a collection before the holy image, 
along with the sacristan of the convent, during a 
period of time to be fixed by friendly arrangement 
between the parties. 

The souls in torment formed another source of 
profit. Directly a rich peasant died, whatever might 
chance to be Heaven’s intentions respecting the soul, 
whether it was destined for hell or paradise, Master 
Adam placed it provisionally in purgatory. Accord- 
ingly, in one of his mural purgatories, amongst the 
crowd of heads which protruded above the flames, 
stretching their hands toward Heaven, this pitiless 
Minos added a head and pair of hands — a head so 
faithful in likeness, and a pair of hands so con- 
tracted with agony, that the relations of the departed 
would have lacked the bowels of compassion if they 
had grudged prayers and alms to a soul which 
pleaded for them in so palpable and public a manner. 

As a result, the heirs, more for their own honor 
than for the solace of the defunct, were forced to 
pay the cure for masses, and to give alms to the 


20 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


artist. Each of these did his duty conscientiously; 
every morning the cure said mass, and every night 
the painter extinguished a flame or removed a line of 
pain from the face of the damned one; and in pro- 
portion as the heirs fulfilled their charitable duty, the 
expression on the face passed successively and visi- 
bly from the despair of the lost soul to the ecstatic 
smile of the blessed. Masses having been duly said, 
and alms bestowed, the dead would one day take to 
itself wings — a last effort of generosity — and on the 
morrow the place of the tormented one was empty. 
Delivered by the piety of those whom he had left on 
earth, the happy soul had entered into heaven. 

For about ten years Master Adam faithfully fol- 
lowed his innocent industry without any disagree- 
ment, save with those whom his clerical associates 
had raised up against him, and who pretended some- 
times that souls in purgatory needed only masses, 
and could very well dispense with the fees to the 
artist. 

At the end of that time Fra Bracalone, sacristan 
of the church of Nicotera, came on behalf of the 
prior to beg Master Adam to ‘Touch up” an old plas- 
ter Madonna which had been painted on the wall of 


THE SPEAKING MADONNA 


2 ! 


an immense garden adjoining the village street, and 
opposite the church. This Madonna had at one time 
performed miracles, but owing, no doubt, to her 
discontent with the neglect into which she had been 
allowed to fall, she had ceased for over ten years to 
give any sign of life. 

The prior's motive in this act of piety was not 
entirely unconnected with the fear with which a cer- 
tain brigand named Marco Brandi had inspired the 
people of lower Calabria, and in particular of Nico- 
tera, in which district, it was suspected, he had es- 
tablished his headquarters. The churchwardens of 
Nicotera decided, at this crisis, to do something for 
the saint, in order that the grateful saint should, in 
turn, do something for the village. At the same 
time, and for greater security, they had despatched 
an express to the judge at Monteleone, making him 
acquainted with the state of affairs, and asking for 
a force of gendarmes. 

Master Adam set about his work with a truly 
Christian ardor. Under his brush the face of the 
Madonna assumed its wonted freshness ; her aureole 
became visible once more, and her garments renewed 
their coloring. All the time he was painting Master 


22 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAH 

Adam maintained around him a circle of the curious, 
whose sustained interest showed the importance 
which the villagers attached to the devotional work 
which was being accomplished before their eyes. 
The work once finished, every one complimented the 
artist, who responded to their praises with a modesty 
which was all the more praiseworthy since he fully 
shared the opinions of the lookers-on in their high 
estimation of the merit of his work. 

For his part the judge at Monteleone had re- 
sponded to the cry of distress from his subordinates 
with such thoroughness that Nicotera could soon 
count on protection temporal as well as spiritual. 

No sooner had they arrived than the brave gen- 
darmes took to the hills, and having dislodged 
Marco Brandi from an excellent position, where he 
had indeed been preparing to take up his winter 
quarters, they dispersed his troop and pursued the 
chief himself with such energy that Brandi, hemmed 
in between the soldiery and the villagers, had barely 
time to hide himself in a little forest of chestnut trees 
adjoining the garden wall of the abbey itself. 

At once, by a movement as skillful as it was rapid, 
the wood was surrounded and searched throughout 


THE SPEAKING MADONNA 


23 


its length and breadth, but without success. Marco 
Brandi had disappeared. Every tree, every shrub, 
was inspected, but in vain ; though not even a tuft of 
grass had escaped its prod of the bayonet. One was 
compelled to believe that there was something mag- 
ical about the affair. 

Eight days passed without any news of the brig- 
and. Nevertheless, as every one knew that danger 
was imminent, the soldiers redoubled their vigilance, 
and the people their devotion. 

Never was a Madonna so supplicated, pampered 
and flattered as Master Adam's Madonna. The 
richest peasants in the districts came in to bring her 
their earrings and necklaces, (which they fully in- 
tended to recover as soon as the brigand was ar- 
rested, but which they lent to the Madonna in the 
meantime) . A lamp burnt night and day at her holy 
feet, and its care was confided to a pious woman 
called Sister Martha, who went every morning from 
house to house, begging for oil, and at night re- 
turned to pour into the receptacle the result of her 
collecting. This was always plentiful enough, so 
that the good woman was not called upon to provide 
any herself ; on the contrary, everybody was glad to 


24 


MASTEE ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


press alms upon her, begging for a place in her pray- 
ers — for Sister Martha exhaled an odor of sanctity 
which extended for ten leagues round about. Like 
Saint Theresa, she saw visions ; sometimes she 
would remain for a day, or even two days, extended 
on her bed, without movement, her eyes open, her 
face contracted. The doctor called this epilepsy: 
Fra Bracalone called it ecstasy. 

Now, it happened that at this time Sister Martha 
was seized with one of her habitual attacks, and for 
forty-eight hours she was unable to attend to her 
customary duties on behalf of the Madonna. Never- 
theless, such is the respect paid in Italy to the busi- 
ness rights of other people, that no woman, however 
sure of her own piety, dared to take Sister Martha^s 
place, and during three-quarters of this time, the oil 
having become exhausted, the holy image remained 
unillumined. 

It was toward the close of the second day. Night 
was coming on, swiftly and sombrely; the Ave 
Maria, the last hymn of twilight, was mounting to 
heaven; the streets were deserted, and with the ex- 
ception of a cluster of children who were playing in 
front of the Madonna, every one was indoors. 


THE SPEAKING MADONNA 


25 


Suddenly a voice, which seemed to come from the 
niche where the Virgin stood, was heard, speaking 
distinctly and sonorously, and calling by name the 
one of the little scamps who was nearest to her. 

The astonished children turned round quickly. 

‘Taschariello said the voice a second time. 

“What is it you want. Madonna ?” asked the boy, 
trembling. 

“Go say to Sister Martha,’’ continued the voice, 
“that for two days she has neglected to put oil in 
my lamp.” 

Paschariello did not need to be told twice. He 
took to his heels, and followed by the rest of the lads, 
crying “Miracle ! Miracle !” arrived pale and pant- 
ing, and covered with perspiration, at Martha’s 
house, at the moment when that holy woman was 
recovering consciousness after her lethargic trance 
of two days’ duration. 

Sister Martha listened in silence to all that the 
boy had to tell, and then, as if the power of memory 
were returning to her little by little, she declared be- 
fore the crowd of neighbors that had gathered about 
her bed, attracted by the strange news, that the 
Virgin had just appeared to her also, and had spoken 


26 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 

to her the same words as those which Paschariello 
had repeated. 

It was now not only the children who cried ^^Mir- 
acle !” but the whole village. 

Sister Martha rose from her bed, in the midst of a 
chorus of acclamations, cries and singing, and took 
her way solemnly toward the sacred image. Pascha- 
riello, who had now become an object of public 
veneration, was carried in triumph on the shoulders 
of two vigorous Calabrians. 

When at length the procession came face to face 
with the Madonna, Sister Martha bade the people 
cease chanting the litanies to the Virgin ; and whilst 
Fra Bracalone and Master Adam, profiting by the 
occasion, made a collection, the one for the convent 
and the other for himself, the favored woman ap- 
proached the image alone and conversed with it for 
some moments in a low voice. 

At the close of this conversation, the result of 
which was eagerly awaited. Sister Martha turned 
toward her audience and declared, in the name of the 
Madonna, that the saint had just declared to her her 
mortification at finding the people of Nicotera so 
weak of faith. They had believed it their duty, as 


THE SPEAKING MADONNA 


27 


protection against Marco Brandi, to add to the 
heavenly care of the all-powerful Virgin an ally so 
pitifully worldly and paltry as a troop of gendarmes. 
She refused entirely to be a party to such an alliance, 
declaring that the people must choose between means 
spiritual and means temporal. One could not be at 
the same time for the soldiers and for the Virgin; 
they must decide for themselves. If they were for 
the gendarmerie, she had not a word to say, for 
she had no desire to influence their consciences. 
Only, she would leave them to the gendarmes, and 
would not answer for the consequences. If, on the 
other hand, they were for her, she would be respon- 
sible for everything, and would answer for it that 
from that day for three years they should hear noth- 
ing more of Marco Brandi. 

There was no doubt about the decision of the 
populace. Cries of ''Viva Madonna! Down with 
the sbirri !” resounded on all sides, and the unhappy 
soldiers were recalled from their different posts, 
where they had watched for eight days with a cour- 
age and tenacity worthy of a better reward, and de- 
parted that night for Monteleone, accompanied by 
the hootings of the crowd, some of the people even 


28 ‘ MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAH 


going so far as to suggest that the troops should be 
stoned. 

Master Adam’s Madonna accordingly remained in 
possession of the battlefield, and we must hasten to 
say, in her honor, that she had made no false prom- 
ise, and that from that moment nothing more for 
three years was heard, in Nicotera or its neighbor- 
hood, of the terrible Marco Brandi. 


CHAPTER II 


THE POST-OFFICE 

The news of the miracle spread from Reggio to 
Cosenza and excited a general feeling of devotion 
toward the holy image. All the neighboring Madon- 
nas endeavored, in their own behalf, to show that 
they, too, were not unworthy of attention. Some 
raised their arms ; some turned up their eyes ; others 
moved their lips; but not one of them spoke, and 
victory, therefore, was with the Madonna of Nico- 
tera, and pilgrims came from all quarters of Cala- 
bria to see her. 

After herself, the three most important persons in 
Calabria now were Paschariello, to whom she had 
first spoken; Sister Martha, who had spoken with her 
face to face as Moses did with Jehovah, and lastly 
Master Adam, who had restored the saint in a man- 
ner so delightful that she (no doubt in her joy at 
being thus renewed) had given the miraculous dem- 
onstration which we have just described. As for 

29 


30 


MASTEK ADAM THE CALABKIAN 


Fra Bracalone, he found himself entirely eclipsed 
in the whole affair. His collections on behalf of 
the church were greatly resented, and this fall in his 
receipts inspired him with jealousy toward Master 
Adam, whose popularity for the moment cast a 
shadow upon his own. 

The triumph of these three illustrious personages 
was as complete as possible. Paschariello until now 
had never attracted the slightest attention from the 
citizens, unless it was when some peasant, wearied 
of the young scamp’s tricks, brought the sole of his 
foot or the palm of his hand into contact with some 
part or other of the youngster’s body. The boy had 
roamed the streets of Nicotera all his little life, 
clothed in such rags as one must first see on the body 
of a Calabrian beggar before one can grasp the fact 
that there are creatures so wretched. These gentry 
clothe themselves in holes and fringes, in such a way 
they look as if they have carried away his web from 
the home of some gigantic spider. 

Now Paschariello, dressed from head to foot at 
the expense of the public in the most gorgeous velvet 
which could be found in Monteleone, was exposed to 
public curiosity on a kind of scaffold, which was 


THE POST-OFFICE 


31 


erected opposite the Madonna who was the source of 
his good fortune. There he was honored with 
showers of oranges, pomegranates and chestnuts, 
the rinds and shells of which he returned to his faith- 
ful followers to be fought for as relics. Paschariello 
now saw before him, instead of a life of misery and 
toil such as that to which he had been born, a beau- 
tiful, rose-colored future, into which he threw himself 
recklessly and insolently, certain that sooner or later 
a career of life-long blessedness would succeed his 
very lenten boyhood. 

Sister Martha had been by no means forgotten in 
the distribution of public gratitude. The favor 
which she appeared to enjoy in the estimation of the 
Madonna had entirely dispersed certain injurious 
rumors which the malicious and incredulous had 
circulated regarding her. It had previously been 
whispered that this excellent woman had at one time 
maintained business relations with the band of brig- 
ands led by Marco Brandi's father, a venerable old 
man who was now living at Cosenza, where he was 
ending his life amidst the respect of the people. 
(We shall recount later how, and under what cir- 
cumstances, this respectable tradesman abandoned 


32 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


with honor the career to which his son had suc- 
ceeded.) But we do not wish to be led aside from 
our subject, and return accordingly to Sister Mar- 
tha, whose reputation had at length triumphed over 
all evil reports, thanks to the patronage of the Ma- 
donna. She also shared with the holy image the 
prestige of having made certain cures ; and it was she 
to whom the people usually applied for miracles of 
the second order. 

Master Adam had now reached the highest pinna- 
cle of glory to which an artist can attain. Since 
he had painted a Madonna who could speak, there 
was not a church in the province, however poor it 
might be, which did not wish to have one of the 
same kind. The artist now quoted his Virgins at ten 
crowns apiece, and in spite of this exorbitant charge 
he could not keep up with all the orders that he 
received. 

A great change for the better took place in the 
little household of the painter — an improvement for 
which he was specially thankful, on account of his 
daughter, on whom he lavished all his affection. 
Whenever Gelsomina went out now, she was always 
dressed in such a style which might have raised 


THE POST-OFFICE 


33 


envy even in the breast of the Madonna herself. 
This was a great matter of scandal to Fra Braca- 
lone, who took occasion at every opportunity to re- 
mark that it would end badly, and that the devil 
must be very stupid if he did not take advantage of 
this pride of the body to damn the young girl’s 
SQul forever. 

It was not long, however, before Fra Bracalone’s 
prediction came true, at least in part. 

The tidings of the miracle spread on the one side 
to Naples, and on the other to Palermo; no one 
throughout the kingdom of the two Sicilies talked of 
anything else but the pilgrimages to the Madonna 
of Nicotera; and the government, observing the 
number of passports which were in demand for 
Monteleone, began to suspect that piety was not the 
only reason for this general emigration. They were 
not slow to perceive that the Carbonari had profited 
by the circumstance, and that out of the ten or 
twelve thousand passports issued for Calabria, 
more than three thousand had been applied for by 
individuals attached to the different branches of 
that brotherhood. 

This took place in 1817, when Europe was begin- 


34 


MASTEK ADAM THE CALABEIAN 


riing to shake with revolutions, and Ferdinand, who 
had only just returned from exile, was not particu- 
larly anxious to go back. He sent three thousand 
men to Monteleone and three thousand to Tropea; 
and then, to get at the root of the mischief, he caused 
Paschariello to be sent to a house of correction, 
forced Sister Martha to enter a convent, and inti- 
mated to the Madonna his express command that 
she must not work any more miracles without his 
permission. 

To the great astonishment of the people of Nico- 
tera the Madonna obeyed. Further, the police (who 
have a mania for explaining everything, particularly 
the most inexplicable things) pretended that Sister 
Martha had confessed to the superior of the convent 
that she had renewed with Marco Brandi's troop the 
relations which she had formerly held with that of 
his father. They also declared (if it is not impious 
to repeat such stories) that young Brandi, pursued 
and forced to hide himself in the little wood, had 
climbed the wall which bordered it, and had hidden 
in the convent garden, where no one thought of 
looking for him. 

This fact becoming known to Sister Martha, she 


THE POST-OFFICE 


35 


visited the Madonna every night, under pretense of 
pouring oil into the lamp, and although sentinels 
were placed on every side, she was able, thanks to 
the darkness, to hand food to the bandit through an 
opening in the wall. But Sister Martha fell ill, and 
the supply of provisions suddenly failed. Marco 
Brandi had waited patiently for two days, but at the 
end of that time he began to fear that he had escaped 
hanging only to die of hunger. He had therefore 
devised the trick of reminding Sister Martha (in his 
character of the Madonna) that for forty-eight 
mortal hours she had forgotten to ‘‘pour any oil into 
the lamp.” 

We have seen how fate had decreed that Sister 
Martha was able to obey the summons of the Ma- 
donna, and how that saint, by using the worthy 
woman as a mouthpiece, manifested her aversion 
for the respectable troop of gendarmerie — a preju- 
dice on the part of the Virgin which surprised no- 
body, the gendarmes being generally known in Italy, 
as in France, by the nickname of “grippe- Jesus.” 

No one believed this story, just because it was 
the police who told it, for of course one never be- 
lieves anything the police say; but false as no doubt 


36 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


it was, it none the less did harm to the Madonna, and 
this evil effect naturally reflected upon Master 
Adam, her painter. The authorities had placed a 
sentinel before the image, with express instructions 
to disperse all assemblages composed of more than 
three persons. This order abolished collections at a 
blow. 

For their part the convents, for fear of com- 
promising themselves, canceled their contracts with 
the painter, and it was in vain that Master Adam 
lowered the price of his Madonnas, for the reduction 
served only to make him still more unpopular. It 
followed as a consequence that as, in the days of his 
prosperity, the honest man had shown no more fore- 
sight nor worldly wisdom than the grasshopper in 
the fable, he soon found himself as poor as ever, to 
the great satisfaction of Fra Bracalone, who, as we 
know, had prophesied some such catastrophe. 

If Master Adam had been alone in the world he 
would have accepted this change in his fortunes with 
the careless disdain of an artist, or the calm resigna- 
tion of a philosopher, but unhappily he had a wife, 
a son and a daughter. It is true that he did not 
trouble greatly on account of his wife, an excellent 


THE POST-OFFICE 


37 


creature, who was the living echo of all that was 
said to her, and who habitually repeated the last 
words of everybody’s speech. Master Adam in mar- 
rying her had pledged himself to give her nothing 
more than her share of his joys and sorrows, and the 
contract which he had made at the altar he so relig- 
iously fulfilled that the poor woman had nothing to 
say, and so said nothing. 

Their son, when very young, had felt a longing to 
enter the army, and had enlisted in the foot-artillery. 
After eight years’ service, as his intelligence was 
fully equal to his enthusiasm, he had reached the 
rank of corporal. He had in the meantime ex- 
changed his family name, which was far too pacific 
in sound, for the more formidable and expressive 
nom de giierre of '‘Bombarda.” Master Adam, then, 
had no occasion to feel concern respecting his son 
and heir, who flourished exceedingly in the shelter 
of the barracks, and in the smoke of the cannon, fed 
and clothed by the government who kept him in 
barracks at Messina. All that it asked of him in re- 
turn for his three halfpence a day was, that he 
should answer the roll-call morning and evening, 
and in leisure moments exchange a few saber-cuts 


38 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


with the bandits of the neighboring villages, on the 
understanding that he should give as many as he 
could and take as few as possible, out of regard, 
not for his skin, but for the uniform which 
clothed it. 

It was of Gelsomina, his dearly loved daughter, 
the model for his Madonnas, and for whom, in his 
ambitious fancy, he dreamed all the riches of the 
earth and all the blessings of heaven, that Master 
Adam now thought. Gelsomina had tasted for a 
moment that intoxicating elixir of life for which 
one longs so much, and which one regrets so poign- 
antly when it is over. What would she do, that 
playful, headstrong, wayward child, without those 
golden needles, pearl earrings and coral necklaces, 
which had been as food and drink to her maiden 
pride? From her, above all. Master Adam hid his 
wretched state. He was afraid, in his father’s heart, 
lest she should think his poverty a crime. What- 
ever suffering he felt in his soul, he always greeted 
Gelsomina with a smiling face, and was haunted by 
only one fear — that she should one day ask for 
something which he could not give her. One can 
imagine what would be his agony if the day ever 


THE POST-OFFICE 39 

came when she would ask him in vain even for 
bread. 

And yet the poor painter had come to that now. 

On the morning of the day when we met him on 
the road from Nicotera, Gelsomina had awakened 
in an ecstasy of fraternal love and solicitude. For 
a long time they had received no news from Corporal 
Bombarda, and in one of those freaks of mood which 
were so habitual with her, Gelsomina suddenly felt a 
strange desire for some tidings of her brother. She 
had no sooner expressed this feeling in words, and 
spoken with confidence of the possibility that a letter 
from him was awaiting them at Monteleone, than 
Master Adam kissed his daughter's forehead, gave 
his wife his last few sous, so that the two women 
might make as good a breakfast as possible, and 
departed fasting, only too happy that his Nina had 
expressed a wish which a mere walk of ten leagues 
could gratify. 

Master Adam had walked so well whilst we have 
been giving our readers these particulars that he had 
already reached Monteleone, and was climbing the 
hilly roads which led to the street where the post- 
office stood. When but a few yards from the spot 


40 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


which he had walked so far to reach he stopped, 
took off his Grecian cap, scratched his bald pate, and 
appeared lost in thought. 

Those who were not acquainted with the state of 
the painter’s private finances might have thought 
that he was standing there lost in admiration of the 
quaint architecture of the curious structure which 
served the purpose of a post-office. It could easily 
have been taken for one of those houses which were 
miraculously transported by angels like that of Our 
Lady of Loretto ; for, as if it had been suspended by 
iron bands from heaven rather than rooted in the 
soil of earth, it had stood firm against all the earth- 
quakes which had convulsed Monteleone since its 
erection. Twenty times in the midst of a general 
eruption it had trembled as if in mortal terror; 
twenty times the stormy winds had shaken it to its 
foundations; but after every attack its crooked 
stories had been propped and strengthened, its 
frightful cracks had been filled in; and finally, its 
ague-fit over, it had remained, misshapen and de- 
crepit, but surviving in the midst of surrounding 
ruin. At the deluge it would have floated like the 
ark; at Gomorrah it would have been incombustible; 


THE POST-OFFICE 


41 


and it seemed already doomed to defy the last day 
and give the lie direct to the Apocalypse. 

After staring thus vacantly for a moment lost in 
thought, Master Adames eye suddenly sparkled; a 
look of inspiration dawned upon his face, and a dis- 
dainful smile of superiority curled his lip. He 
raised his head with the air of a man who realizes 
that in this world the race is always to the swift or 
to the cunning, and advanced toward the iron gate 
which guarded the post-office, twiddling his cap be- 
tween his fingers and assuming a stupid demeanor. 

He raised himself by the bars, so that he could 
peer into the office, and as he did so an official turned 
at the noise, and adjusting his spectacles, inquired in 
a sharp voice what he wanted. 

‘‘Do you happen to have a letter waiting here for 
me,’^ said the painter, in honeyed tones, “a letter 
from Messina, addressed to Master Adam, artist- 
painter of Nicotera?’’ 

“Here it is,” answered the postmaster, after a 
moment’s search. He held the letter out as he 
spoke. 

“Would you be so kind as to read it to me, good 
sir?’’ replied Adam, with marvelous meekness, and 


42 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABKIAH 
foolish rusticity of manner ; ‘‘one must be very 
learned to know what all that silly scrawl means.” 

“Willingly, my good friend,” answered the post- 
master, who by now had recognized in his visitor 
the Michael Angelo of Calabria. ‘Ht is from your 
son, Corporal Bombarda, no doubt.” 

“Oh Lord, yes ; it is likely ! The good lad handles 
a broom better than a pen, and my sight is failing me 
so that I miss every other word he writes.” 

“Still, the writing isn’t bad for a gunner,” said the 
complaisant official, condescendingly, as he adjusted 
his glasses, “and I can read it like print myself. 
H’m ! listen— er—h’m ” 

Master Adam indicated by a sign that he had not 
lost a word of the letter so far. 

“ 'My dear Father ’ ” 

“Ah, he’s a respectful, obedient lad !” cried Master 
Adam. 

The reader nodded assent, and continued : 

“ 'My dear Father. — We have just experienced 
here such a great and terrible earthquake, that if 
God had deigned to prolong it for another five min- 


THE POST-OFFICE 


43 


utes, we should all be at this moment in Paradise, 
from which Heaven preserve us ! I have been fight- 
ing like a lion against the brigands of Messina, who 
are not half as good as ours in Calabria, and cut 
two of them in pieces no later than yesterday. So I 
have obtained leave of absence for six weeks, and 
mean to come straight home. You may expect me 
almost as soon as you get this letter. Keep for me 
your blessing and some of those Palma figs which 
you know I am so fond of. 

“ ‘Your devoted son, 

“ ‘The Corporal Bombarda.^ " 

“Thanks, kind sir,” said Master Adam; “that is 
all that I want to know ; I will come and fetch the 
letter when I have the money for it.” 

And forsaking the grating against which he had 
rested during this colloquy, the painter replaced his 
cap and quickly disappeared round the corner of the 
neighboring street. 


CHAPTER III 


FRA BRACALONE 

Master Adam was far away before the poor 
official had recovered from his astonishment. As 
the old man had truly said, he knew all that he 
wanted to know, and so departed with a light and 
joyous step. The letter he had just heard had taken 
ten years off his shoulders. 

Master Adam possessed one of those happy na- 
tures which are always prepared for enjoyment, and 
which open as naturally at the breath of hope as the 
flowers unfold their hearts to the sun. Seeing him 
tramp merrily along, whistling an old tune and 
thwacking the air with his stick, many a richer 
man might have envied him that content of soul 
which comes from an unconquerable faith in Hea- 
ven's goodness. 

‘"Surely," he thought to himself, ‘T am a man 
blessed by Providence. I have a talent which no 

44 


FRA BRACALONE 


45 


one disputes, and which brings me fame, if not for- 
tune. I have a son who is as brave as Judas Macca- 
beus, and a daughter as fair and as pure as the Virgin 
herself, and my two children are soon to be reunited ! 
All that I love in the world I shall hold in my arms 
to-morrow — ^perhaps to-night ! How Gelsomina 
will rejoice at the news I bring her! How she will 
spring into my arms to thank me for the trouble I 
have taken ! With what an appetite shall we sup to- 
night I” 

At these words, or rather at this thought, old 
Adam stopped short and struck his forehead like a 
man starting out of his sleep. He had just recol- 
lected that he had that morning given his wife the 
last of his money to buy herself some dinner, and 
that he was taking nothing home for supper. At the 
thought that his beloved Gelsomina would perhaps 
not even break her fast that night, the old man re- 
membered that he, too, was hungry. 

Master Adam heaved a deep sigh, and continued 
his journey with drooping head, sorrowing and hu- 
miliated. Only a moment before he had wished for 
wings; and now he felt that he would arrive home 
too soon, however slowly he went. He slackened his 


46 


MASTEK ADAM THE CALABKIAH 


pace, following the path mechanically, and racking 
his brain for some way out of the trouble that faced 
him. 

By the roadside he passed two or three of his own 
paintings, some of souls in purgatory, some of Ma- 
donnas, but these only served to make him feel more 
acutely the instability of all human things. For 
these same frescoes, three years before, when he was 
in his glory, would have been surrounded with 
peasants, crowding together, kneeling and praying. 
He would only have needed to say to them haught- 
ily, painted those,” and to have gone the round 
of the group, to receive such alms as would not only 
have enabled him to return home with food for a 
week, but would have bought Gelsomina a new dress 
with the balance — a dress which would have been 
the envy of all the girls of Vina and Triolo. To-day 
what a change ! Since the authorities had forbidden 
Master Adam’s Madonnas to perform miracles, and 
the ungrateful Virgins had thought it best to obey, 
the productions of his brush had lost all their repu- 
tation, and were shunned, deserted. Not even the 
souls in purgatory escaped this humiliating ex- 
perience, and Master Adam had the chagrin of see- 


FBA BEACALONE 


47 


ing a peasant, with more pity for the painted than 
respect for the painter, doing all he could to extin- 
guish the flames which devoured one of the damned 
in the artist’s picture. 

It was the last straw which broke the back of the 
old man’s philosophy. He fell from discourage- 
ment to despair, and when he came to the brow of 
the hill, and saw the white cottages of Nicotera 
clustering on the brink of the sea as a flock of swans 
on the margin of a lake, and far beyond that the 
little house bowered in olives, where Gelsomina and 
his wife awaited his return — instead of trudging on, 
the old man fell, rather than seated himself, at the 
foot of a newly built wall which in other days would 
have furnished him with a canvas worthy of receiv- 
ing one of his best ‘Tast Judgments.” 

For nearly a quarter of an hour, his elbows rest- 
ing on his knees, his head between his hands, old 
Adam sat there, absorbed in the saddest of reflec- 
tions. Suddenly he heard himself called by name, 
and, looking up, he saw Father Bracalone and his 
ass on their way to a neighboring village to fetch 
provisions. So preoccupied had the old man been 
with his own wretched thoughts that he had not even 


48 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


heard the tinkling of the bell with which the honest 
brute was wont to announce his master’s approach. 

The sacristan was standing before his neighbor, 
watching him with that feigned look of compassion 
which a cowled face can so easily assume. 

‘‘Well, Master Adam,” he said, “what are you 
doing there? Dreaming of some great subject for 
a picture, eh, my fine fellow?” 

“Alas, no!” groaned the poor artist, “I am hot, 
I am tired, and I am resting a moment, that is 
all.” 

“Nevertheless, that is a capital wall,” continued 
the sacristan, pointing to the spot where the tired 
painter was resting, “and a Madonna would look 
fine up there.” 

The old man sighed. 

“Yes, I understand,” added Fra Bracalone; “times 
are changed, aren’t they ? And the Madonnas work 
no more miracles. Good heavens ! if you had lived 
amongst them all your life as I have, you would 
know that that is just the sort of creatures they are. 
Times change; here to-day and gone to-morrow — 
we must be philosophical, my friend.” 

“It is all very fine for you,” muttered the old man. 


FKA BKACALONE 49 

who have dined to-day, and expect to sup to- 
night.” 

^‘Dame!” answered Fra Bracalone, with his most 
paternal air, ‘7 am no great painter; I don’t seek 
for earthly glory; I trust in the divine Providence, 
and it would be tempting its wrath if I labored with 
my hands. I am only a poor sacristan, and this my 
ass is but a poor ass ; but neither he nor I has ever 
wanted for anything, thanks to the benevolent St. 
Francis, our protector. We are bare and empty 
now ; but if you are still here an hour hence you will 
see us return, I with a swelling wallet, he with his 
paniers packed. A pinch with me, Master Adam?” 

The friar took his snuff-box from his pocket and 
offered it to his neighbor, who shook his head, at 
once to thank and to refuse. 

‘Wou are wrong. Master,” replied the Francis- 
can, sniffing at the pinch of powder which he held 
between his fingers. ‘This snuff has marvelous 
qualities; it cures the megrims, dispels the vapors, 
and banishes all gloomy thoughts.” 

“You waste time in boasting of it to me,” said the 
old man, curtly. “I have no alms to give you, and 
I take nothing without paying for it.” 


50 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


''Another humiliation to lay at the feet of my 
good master St. Francis/' replied Fra Bracalone, 
raising his eyes piously to heaven. "Adieu, my 
brother ; God give you patience, as he has given me 
humility." 

With these words the friar made a clacking sound 
with his tongue, which set the ass moving, and he 
followed it out of sight. 

Master Adam watched him disappear with mixed 
feelings of contempt and envy, for what the sacris- 
tan had said was true in every particular. He, with 
the prior, was all that remained of a community of 
Franciscans dispersed during the wars of 1809. 
The worthy pair themselves had been obliged to live 
in hiding during that stormy period, and it was 
only on the second return of Ferdinand to Naples, 
and after the fall of Joachim, that the brothers had 
reappeared and once more taken up their abode in the 
best part of the abbey, where they lived on a footing 
of the most Christian brotherhood. There were, 
indeed, some who said that, although Don Gaetano 
was the prior, it was really Fra Bracalone (in defi- 
ance of the rules of the Church) who ruled. But 
for all that, no outward act, no formality, lent sup- 


FEA BEACALONE 


51 


port to this shocking assertion, and no one could 
say, although it would have astonished nobody to 
hear it, that he had ever seen Father Gaetano ring 
the bell or Brother Bracalone say the mass. And 
surely such scandalous rumors do not deserve either 
the credence or the attention of the grave historian. 

One thing is certain in all this — instead of putting 
his hopes upon any earthly and perishable glory, as 
Master Adam did. Fra Bracalone chose a more solid 
and well-founded object of devotion, which even an 
earthly revolution could not turn out of heaven. 
The result was, that whilst the Madonna of Nicotera 
lost all credit with the people, St. Francis preserved 
his intact, and the worthy Fra Bracalone did not find 
any abatement of fervor amongst the faithful. On 
the contrary, the following of the Monk of Assisi 
was recruited from the Madonna's deserters. To 
this people, full of faith as they were, it was abso- 
lutely necessary to believe or to adore, and they were 
only contented and happy when they were believing 
or adoring. 

Thus Fra Bracalone's visit was more like that of 
a teacher, levying fines, than of a monk begging 
alms. Every other day he started out with his ass. 


52r 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


he with a flaccid pouch, the animal with its paniers 
empty; and they made the tour of the surrounding 
villages, collecting their tithe in every market and of 
every kind of fare — fish, game, vegetables, fruits, 
bread and wine. 

The modus operandi was simple. The brother 
approached a merchant, and uttered his appeal in the 
two holy words: ‘'St. Francis.” As soon as the 
man heard these words his hand went to his hat, like 
a soldier in the presence of his officer, and Fra Brac- 
alone was left free to rake his choice of the merchan- 
dise. But whenever the goods were of changeable 
value, as, for instance, fish or fruit, the merchant 
took the precaution of mentioning the current price. 
Thus at the words “St. Francis” he replied, still 
standing with his hand to his cap, “At twelve sous” 
or “At fifteen sous” a pound. Then the sacristan 
acted accordingly, and showed himself discreet by 
taking only a little fish, or fruit that was bruised. 
In this way he kept as a right what greater exaction 
on his part would have changed into abuse. Besides, 
he always gave something in exchange for what he 
took : sometimes it was an image of St. Francis ; 
sometimes one of those little cakes baked in the form 


FEA BRACALONE 


53 


of a crown, and which they call tarallini; sometimes 
it was a little of that famous snuff which he had 
offered to Master Adam, a single pinch of which 
was warranted to cure all headaches, and secure a 
good night’s sleep. 

A perfect understanding, secured by confidence on 
one side and discretion on the other, reigned between 
Fra Bracalone and the peasants of the neighborhood. 
The only thing with which they sometimes re- 
proached him was his lack of pity for his ass, which • 
he not only loaded with overweighted paniers, but 
with the wallet which the friar ought to have carried 
on his own shoulders. 

Fra Bracalone, then, had told nothing more than 
the truth when he promised Master Adam to return 
in an hour with a full pouch and heavy paniers. 

The sacristan passed on, but his boast to Master 
Adam did not fall on barren ground. That blank 
wall which seemed to have been prepared for his use 
— that ass about to return laden with food, had 
awakened the old man’s energies and the wolf in his 
stomach. Nevertheless, Master Adam sat on for a 
little while, thoughtful but not cast down. He was 
thinking out some grand conception, no doubt, for 


54 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


his hand was tracing in the air an invisible outline, 
the reflection of one already formed in his head. 

After a minute of this pantomime Master Adam 
looked up and turned toward the wall. His picture 
was designed; it only remained to execute it. 

Taking off his water-gourd, he drew from his 
pocket his brushes and colors; then, after stepping 
back a moment to measure with his eye the propor- 
tions of his subject, he set to work so boldly and 
rapidly that his picture was sketched in outline in 
ten minutes, and so completely that there was no 
doubt whatever as to the subject which the fresco 
was going to represent. 

It was once more a ‘‘soul in purgatory,’^ but this 
time it was distinguished from ordinary souls by 
details both particular and personal. The damned 
was dressed in a Franciscan^s gown, which showed 
that in the flesh the body which it then possessed had 
belonged to that order. Whilst the flames were de- 
vouring the unhappy man to the knees, he was forced 
to stoop under the weight of a pair of paniers topped 
by a wallet placed upon him by a devil, whose face 
was half-man, half-ass. 

It was a picture designed in the spirit of Dante, 


FRA BRACALONE 


65 


half grotesque, half horrible, and one the moral of 
which it was impossible to mistake, for it pictured 
the one sin of which the brother could be really ac- 
cused — that of being without pity for the poor brute 
which he humbly called ‘‘his companion,” but which 
in reality he treated more like a slave. 

Master Adam had set to work like a man who 
has not a moment to lose, and he continued painting 
with a vigor and decision which showed that in 
less than two hours his task would be completely 
finished. As is usual with frescoes, he never passed 
his brush over the same spot twice, and finished with 
one turn of his wrist each tongue of flame, each 
detail of drapery or flesh, with a surety of touch 
worthy of Michael Angelo. The whole picture was 
progressing gloriously toward an end when Fra 
Bracalone, driving his ass before him, appeared at 
the bend of the road. 

The sacristan had certainly kept his word. The 
ass’s back seemed ready to give way beneath its load, 
and Fra Bracalone, with a beaming face, followed 
without seeming to care about the animal’s distress, 
and even hastening the lagging ass’s steps with a 
prickly switch. Master Adam noticed the pair the 


56 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


moment that they turned the corner of the road, but 
pretending not to see them, he continued his work 
without turning his head, warned of their approach 
by the tinkling of the bell. The nearer they came 
the harder he worked. 

At length the silvery noise ceased; there was a 
moment of silence; then a voice trembling with 
amazement and anger came from behind the artist’s 
back. 

“What are you doing there. Master Adam?” 

“Aha! is that you. Fra Bracalone?” replied the 
old man, without turning his head. “Well, as you 
see, I have taken your advice ; I did not like to pass 
such a beautiful wall without making use of my 
privilege, which is to paint all the souls in purgatory 
for ten leagues round about. If you will wait a min- 
ute, I have only the head of the condemned to do. 
That finished, we can go along together.” 

A face in the picture was still lacking; within a 
hood an oval space had been left by the artist. Into 
this Master Adam rapidly sketched, with a precision 
which was almost weird, the eyes, nose and chin of 
the lost soul. Fra Bracalone saw that he had no 
time to lose. 


FRA BRACALONE 


57 


‘^Hi! Master Adam!’’ he cried once more, in a 
voice in which anger began to get the better of as- 
tonishment, ‘‘it is my portrait that you are paint- 
ing.” 

“Do you think so?” said the artist, carelessly, 
putting in with the butt of his brush one of those 
subtle touches of expression which are the secrets of 
great painters. 

“What! do I think so?” cried Fra Bracalone, 
seizing the other by the arm to stop him in time, if 
possible. “I more than think ; I know it is.” 

“You are mistaken,” said Master Adam, freeing 
his arm and trying to resume his work. 

“No, I am not mistaken,” replied Fra Bracalone, 
seizing once more upon that wicked arm. “I am so 
little mistaken that if my poor ass could speak, I am 
sure he would recognize his master.” 

The ass began to bray. 

“There!” continued the sacristan, “you see I did 
not tell him to speak !” 

“Very well; so much the better,” replied Master 
Adam, with an effort which left him in possession 
of the captive member. “People have often denied 
the likeness in my pictures, and you most of all. Fra 


68 


MASTEK ADAM THE CALABKIAH 


Bracalone. This is how genius answers and re- 
venges itself/’ 

“But tell me,” continued the sacristan, growing 
more and more uneasy, “what is your idea in doing 
this. Master Adam ?” 

“A very material one, I confess,” answered the 
artist. “I can no longer make money by burning the 
dead, so now I mean to burn the living; that will 
bring me in something, I hope. As for yourself, do 
not grumble. Fra Bracalone; for instead of putting 
you into purgatory I could have put you into hell, 
and once there, as you well know, neither masses nor 
charity can get you out !” 

“That is so,” said the monk, who felt the force of 
this reasoning, and who in consequence began to find 
the situation not so alarming as he had thought. 
“Well, my good friend, let us see; can’t this be ar- 
ranged?” 

“Oh, yes,” replied the painter, “and I feel quite 
sure that a fortnight from now you will be in 
heaven. You are too well loved by the peasants of 
the neighborhood to have any fear that they will 
leave you in such a cruel position. You don’t doubt 
that, I hope ?” 


FEA BKACALONE 


59 


With these words Master Adam, with a single 
touch of his brush, twisted the mouth of the con- 
demned in a way which left no doubt as to the in- 
tensity of his sufferings. Fra Bracalone trembled 
from head to foot ; he seemed to feel in reality all the 
tortures that he saw pictured before him. 

''No, certainly I do not doubt it,’’ said the poor 
sacristan, after a moment’s silence; "but do you 
think that after having seen me in purgatory — and 
having drawn me out of it — they will have the 
same respect and veneration for me? Tell me 
truly.” 

"Upon my word,” replied Master Adam, as he 
placed a tear on the contracted cheek of the *‘soul in 
pain,” "no one on earth is sure of his safety, my 
brother, and the Pope himself, in opening the door 
of heaven to others, is forced, when he wants to get 
in himself, to give up the keys to his successor. In 
any case, I will shorten your period as much as pos- 
sible, and to-morrow I will commence collecting.” 

"But without appealing to others,” asked Fra 
Bracalone in a timid tone, "might we not arrange it 
between ourselves?” 

"It seems to me that would be very difficult,” re- 


60 


MASTEE ADAM THE CALABKIAH 


plied the old man, shaking his head. ‘‘One cannot 
get a soul out of purgatory save by masses and 
alms.’^ 

“As to masses, I will see to those,’’ said the sacris- 
tan, who was pleased to see that things seemed to 
be clearing up somewhat. “I will ring them, and the 
prior will say them, as usual, without even asking 
for whom.” 

“There still remains the alms, in which I ought to 
have a part,” continued Master Adam ; “and one of 
the rules of your order. Fra Bracalone, forbids you 
to buy or sell anything for money. You see, then, 
how very difficult it is to arrange.” 

“How so?” said the sacristan, putting as much 
vivacity into the defence as his antagonist put into 
the attack. “We cannot trade for silver or gold, it is 
true, but we can give in exchange things which are 
otherwise precious.” 

“Ah, well, let us see wHat these things are?” said 
Master Adam, stopping in his work for the first 
time.” 

“You have a pretty daughter.” 

“My Gelsomina? She is an angel!” 

“She is of marriageable age?” 


FRA BRACALONE 


61 


‘^She will be sixteen a la Saint e-Marie'* 

“We will say her wedding masses free.” 

“That is something, but it is not enough.” 

“You have a soldier son ?” 

“He is only a corporal.” 

“No matter; it is not a question of rank, but of 
profession; in that profession he runs great risk of 
losing his soul, since he is much more often at the 
inn than the church.” 

“Alas! you speak truly, and that is one of my 
troubles.” 

“Ah, well, we will give him indulgences which 
will keep him in an unceasing state of grace.” 

“That is tempting; and then?” 

“You are no longer young. Master Adam.” 

“I am nearly fifty-five.” 

“It is an age when one cannot count on very much 
more of life.” 

“Ah, yes ; the days of a man are already counted 
by the Lord.” 

“That is true, and you might die at any moment.” 

“Well?” 

“I will bury you in a consecrated frock; I will 
light six wax tapers round your bier, and I will 


62 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

watch you myself, which I wouldn’t do for every- 
body.” 

“That last offer decides me,” said Master Adam, 
pretending that he could no longer resist the won- 
derful temptations which were held out to him ; “but 
as, instead of going to buy provisions as my wife 
told me to do, I have amused myself by doing this 
painting on the wall, and as it is now too late to 
repair my fault, you shall give me in addition the 
half of the burden which your ass is carrying.” 

“Oh, with great pleasure !” cried the sacristan, 
gaily, delighted at getting out of purgatory so easily, 
“and you shall choose for yourself whatever is best 
and most appetizing.” 

“Is that understood?” said Master Adam, holding 
out his hand to Fra Bracalone. 

“Take the whole lot,” answered the father, in his 
enthusiasm. 

“Very well,” said Master Adam, sighing as he 
effaced the almost finished fresco : “Another work of 
art lost to the world, but my daughter will sup to- 
night.” 


CHAPTER lY 


MARCO BRANDI 

‘^See^ wife/’ said old Adam, as he entered his cot- 
tage, ‘T forgot to leave you any money to go mar- 
keting with ; but there are provisions here — cook us 
a good supper, in honor of our son, who may be 
here at any moment.” 

‘‘At any moment?” repeated old Babilana, “the 
dear boy !” 

“You have a letter from him?” cried a young girl, 
who, rushing out from a little room at the back of 
the cottage, threw her arms fondly round the old 
man’s neck. 

“Yes, Nina, my child, I have had a letter.” 

“Well, where is it — show me it — let me read it!” 
cried the young girl, impatiently. 

Master Adam made a show of feeling in all his 
pockets. 

“There, now, you’ve lost it,” said Gelsomina, 
vexed, and stamping with her pretty foot. “That’s 
just like you.” 


63 


64 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

“Don’t scold me, Nina,” said her father; “it’s not 
my fault.” 

“But when did the letter arrive ?” 

“I — I can’t say exactly ; I can’t recall the date.” 

“You can’t remember the date! Oh, it only 
needed that ! No, I don’t want to kiss you.” 

“And is this how you thank me for having walked 
ten leagues to bring you news ?” 

“Forgive me, father,” cried Gelsomina, embracing 
him once more; “I am a naughty girl! But I love 
you dearly — don’t frown!” 

The old man took his daughter’s head between 
his hands, and tears of joy flowed down his cheeks 
as he looked at her. 

“And I — I suppose I don’t love you at all? You 
will never know what I have given up for you — ^but 
let that pass. I had painted to-day my finest pic- 
ture — but we won’t talk of it.” 

“Yes — and then?” 

“Nothing. Go and help your mother. I feel 
hungry; I shall make a good supper. Go !” 

This sense of appetite was not remarkable. The 
old man had not eaten since early morning. 

The young girl ran to join her mother and assist 


MARCO BRANDI 


65 


in the preparations, without even asking her father 
how and where he had got all the luxurious food 
that she saw before her, and which seemed, by its 
delicacy and costliness, to be more fitted for the table 
of a cardinal. Gelsomina was still young enough 
to believe that Mother Nature benevolently provides 
for the needs of all, and artless enough to be con- 
vinced that virtue exists and flourishes without sup- 
port, like daisies in a meadow. 

Master Adam quitted the house and sat on the 
terrace of his little garden overlooking the seashore. 

The sun, which throughout the day had sailed 
proudly through a sea of heavenly blue, was now 
sinking in the west in a bank of copper-colored 
clouds. From these Stromboli stood out boldly, a 
bluish cone plumed with flames. Toward the south, 
like a ribbon stretching level with the sea, ran the 
shores of Sicily, and beyond, wreathed like his 
neighbor in a mass of cloud, rose giant Etna. 
Northward the view was bounded by the Calabrian 
coast, which curved elegantly outward to form 
Cape Vaticano. 

The sea to the west, where the sun’s disc had al- 
ready dipped below the horizon, rolled with waves 


66 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


of flame, in the midst of which flitted vessels hurry- 
ing to reach the port of Satina, or at least the Gulf 
of St. Euphemia, before nightfall. These belated 
and timorous ships, with their triangular white sails, 
might, by less experienced eyes than those of the 
people of that coast, have been taken for gulls flying 
home to their nests. 

Everything betokened the coming of a storm, 
which awaited only the departure of the sun to take 
command of nature. The sun, in turn, seemed to 
leave the scene regretfully, and as if conscious that, 
like a sovereign dethroned, he was leaving his king- 
dom to chaos. 

The spectacle was so grand, so fascinating, that 
although he had seen its like many times. Master 
Adam could not look upon it without emotion. He 
was plunged in absorbed contemplation when a 
light hand touching his shoulder roused him from 
his meditations. Turning, he saw his daughter by 
his side. 

'Tt is very beautiful, is it not, my child?’' he 
cried. 

*'What, that sunset, which promises us such a 
Storm?” 


MAECO BEANDI 


67 


“Ah, but look at those exquisite tints! What 
vivid colors — what a boldness of tone 

“Look, father; those boats are hurrying to port. 
Ah, they will not all arrive in time; and the 
men in them have wives and daughters awaiting 
them I” 

“You are right, child. Listen — ^the Ave Maria is 
ringing. Pray for those on sea 1” 

The young girl fell on her knees, and in a sweet 
voice which was neither speaking nor singing, she 
intoned the holy salutation. As she prayed the old 
man stood by, bare-headed and with folded hands, 
looking heavenward as if watching for some angel 
to descend and bear to the skies the holy words, as 
they fell from his daughter's lips and were borne 
upward by the first faint puffs of wind that were 
now rising. 

The prayer ended, Gelsomina was about to rise, 
when her father's hand restrained her. 

“You have forgotten something," said the old 
man, gently. 

“What, father?" 

“You have prayed for the sailors — ^pray now for 
travellers. In a storm the mountains are as dan- 


68 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

gerous as the seas, and who knows whether your 
brother is coming to us by sea or by land?’^ 

“You are right, father,” answered the girl ; “I had 
forgotten poor Bombarda.” 

And she prayed once more, and this time Master 
Adam did not content himself with following the 
words in spirit, but joined in the prayer with a loud 
voice. 

“Now, father,” added the young girl, when she 
had finished and crossed herself, “come indoors; 
supper is ready.” 

Master Adam followed his daughter, not without 
throwing a last glance at the magnificent panorama, 
already half hidden in the shadow of the black 
clouds, which, like a huge pall drawn by some invis- 
ible hand, completely covered the sky with darkness. 

From time to time a flash of lightning, precursor 
of the storm, left a crack in the gloomy clouds, 
through which the eye caught a glimpse of the 
flaming force pent there. At the same moment the 
gusts of wind, which one heard overhead but as yet 
did not feel, shook the tops of the chestnuts, w'hilst 
the lower branches, to the smallest leaf, remained 
as if dead, so still were they. 


MAECO BEANDI 


69 


The old man paused with his foot on the threshold 
of the cottage, and listened intently. From far 
away in the west a dull rumbling came faintly to the 
ear — a sound heavy, deep and ominous, but as yet so 
distant that one could hardly tell whether it came 
from earth or sky. The old man recognized the 
mighty voice of Nature, who warns her children of 
the danger she brings, that they may seek a shelter 
against destruction. 

This solemn sight had made Master Adam forget 
for a time that he had eaten no food for twenty-four 
hours, but once indoors and seated before his supper, 
he again descended to earth in thought. Old Babi- 
lana had exerted herself to the utmost, and probably 
the table of the prior himself was not more richly 
furnished that night than was that of his painter-in- 
ordinary. 

Master Adam, whose nature was a happy mixture 
of the spiritual and material, forgot what was im- 
pending out of doors, and confined his attention ex- 
clusively to what was going on within. There still 
remained behind his gastronomical satisfaction, a 
lingering regret for his effaced fresco, and a fear 
that Bombarda might not come after all; but with 


70 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


the first glass of wine, and the first mouthful of 
meat, the work before him suddenly assumed such 
importance that he felt it necessary to devote his 
whole attention to it. 

Nevertheless, the thunder drew nearer and nearer, 
and announced one of those storms of Southern 
Europe, of which only those who have heard one 
break above their heads, can form any idea. The 
wind had descended in its course, and now swept 
the earth as if it would uproot everything which 
stood on its surface. From time to time the poor 
hut, shaken by the squalls, trembled from its roof to 
its foundations, and at such moments Gelsomina set 
down her glass or her fork, seized her father by the 
hand, and looked at him with a childish terror, 
which he quelled by pressing his lips against her 
forehead. Meanwhile old Babilana ate on, with 
all the selfish, settled appetite of the aged, taking 
no more notice of the storm than as if it did not 
exist. 

Suddenly through the crevices of the badly fitting 
shutters they saw a flash as of lightning; then an ex- 
plosion followed, so terrifying, so sudden and so 
close, that this time Gelsomina, not content with 


MAKCO BRANDI 


71 


seeking her father’s hand, threw herself on his 
breast, pale and trembling. 

‘‘It’s only the thunder,” said Master Adam, clasp- 
ing the frightened girl lovingly in his arms. 

“Only the thunder,” echoed Babilana. 

“No, it was not the thunder,” said Gelsomina. 

And at that moment, to corroborate her words, 
the thunder itself broke forth into one of those peals 
which seem to traverse the whole vast floor of 
heaven, and which surpassed the noise they had 
just heard, as greatly as the roar of the sea excels 
the murmur of the brook. 

At the same instant a whirlwind seemed to en- 
velop the cabin in its folds; the roof shivered, the 
shutters cracked. Master Adam himself began to 
show fear, and Gelsomina uttered a cry to which 
the tempest in its plaintive shrieks seemed to reply. 

At this moment the door opened, and a man, pale, 
hatless, his clothes covered with blood, darted into 
the hut. 

“I am Marco Brandi,” he cried ; “save me !” 

At the sight of this apparition, and hearing this 
cry of distress and appeal to his humanity. Master 
Adam forgot the tempest and remembered only that 


72 


Mx\STER ADAM THE CALABKIAN 


the fugitive who claimed his protection was closely 
pursued. 

Instead of wasting time in words, he pointed 
silently to the little room which had been prepared 
for his son. The bandit flung himself into this hid- 
ing-place. With that instinct of self-preservation 
which is part of all hunted creatures, he had esti- 
mated in a moment, in the briefest of glances at his 
protector, whether he had the more to fear or to 
hope; and he had seen that he had everything to 
hope, and nothing to fear. 

This incident had passed so swiftly that those to 
whom it had occurred might well have believed it 
the result of their own imagination, if the door had 
not remained open. By the blaze of another flash of 
lightning the three saw a troop of horsemen in the 
storm, galloping furiously along the road to Nico- 
tera. 

Gelsomina ran to the door and closed it. Rapid 
as the appearance and disappearance of the bandit 
had been, the young girl had had time to note that 
he was a good-looking young man from twenty-five 
to twenty-eight years of age, who even in flight re- 
tained the proud, fierce expression which in man or 
I 


MAECO BEANDI 


73 


in lion proclaims one who will yield only to num- 
bers, and never to fear. 

The poor, startled child had summoned all her 
strength to accomplish this act of precaution; but 
scarcely had she closed the door when her limbs 
failed her, and she would have fallen against the 
wall if her father, seeing that her strength had 
given way, had not rushed to her support. As he 
did so, a fresh occurrence called for his attention and 
energy of mind. 

Another troop, which appeared to consist of in- 
fantry, was marching in the direction of the hut. 
Gelsomina and Master Adam listened anxiously to 
the sound of their steps, which came nearer and 
nearer. At last there was no longer any room for 
doubt — several men stopped before the door, and 
one of them rapped upon it with the butt of his 
carbine. 

“Who knocks ?” cried Adam. 

“Open answered a voice. 

“To whom?” asked the old man. 

“To a poor devil who will be dead before we get 
him to Nicotera, if you do not take pity on him.” 

“What has happened to him ?” 


U MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

‘'He has just been murdered by Marco Brandi.” 

Gelsomina started, and her father looked at her. 
Both hesitated. 

“Open, father; it is I!” cried the dying man. 

“Bombarda!” cried father and daughter in one 
breath. 

“My boy !” murmured the old woman, rising from 
her chair and resting her trembling hands upon the 
table to save herself from falling. 

Master Adam opened the door. Several gen- 
darmes bore in their arms the body of a young man, 
dressed in the uniform of the Neapolitan Artillery. 
In the middle of his breast was a large wound, from 
which the blood flowed in torrents. 

The old man turned terribly pale; Gelsomina fell 
on her knees. 

At this moment the horsemen who had ridden 
past returned, for a flash from the angry heavens 
had lighted up the road ahead of them, and had 
shown it deserted. 

“Master,” said the sergeant who commanded, 
“have you seen a young man from twenty-five to 
twenty-eight years of age, with long black hair and 
beard under his chin, and who is probably wounded ? 


MARCO BRANDI 75 

If you have seen him, say so at once. He has killed 
your son !” 

A smile of vengeance passed over the face of the 
unhappy father, and he opened his mouth to speak. 
At this moment Gelsomina uttered a cry, and the 
old man turned his eyes upon her. 

She was on her knees, her hands clasped, and gaz- 
ing at him with a look of strange, unspeakable 
agony. 

have seen no one,” said the old painter. 

And taking his son in his arms, he carried him 
into the room opposite to that in which Marco 
Brandi was hiding. 


CHAPTER V 


'^THE commander” 

Six weeks after the events recorded above, one 
evening, an hour after Ave Maria, Corporal Bonri’ 
barda and Marco Brandi left old Adam's cot- 
tage arm in arm, the one to rejoin his regiment, 
the other his troop. Bombarda was returning to ask 
for his discharge; Marco to announce his resigna- 
tion. We will leave the brave corporal, of whom our 
readers already know something, to return tranquilly 
to Messina, and follow Marco on his road to 
Cosenza. 

Marco Brandi was not at all the poetic type of 
bandit of whom Nodier has given us a portrait in 
Jean Sbogar, or whom we ourselves have described 
in ''Pascal Bruno.” Society had not been guilty of 
any personal act of injustice toward him, such as 
generally drives men from the cities to the moun- 
tains. He was simply born to the profession: his 
father had been a brigand chief before him, and the 

76 


THE COMMANDER’ 


77 


son inherited the position in the ordinary course. 
This is how it came about. 

Placido Brandi was the chief of one of those 
bands which were formed in Calabria in 1806 to 
oppose the occupation of the province by the French. 
For six or seven years he fought on behalf of the 
king; then, when the war was at an end, and the 
king seemed to have something better to do than to 
reward the chief, he decided to continue fighting on 
his own account. Brandi was a man of experience, 
and proof against all dangers; his followers were 
devoted to him and skilled in guerilla warfare, and 
they resolved to share the good and evil fortunes of 
their chief. Soon Brandi found himself at the head 
of one of the most redoubtable bands of brigands 
which had ever been known to lurk between Sparti- 
vento and the Gulf of Salerno. 

The ingratitude which Ferdinand had shown to- 
ward his chieftain had embittered old Brandi’s na- 
ture. He had seen men who had done nothing for 
the royal cause except follow the court to Sicily and 
who, in spite of the obvious duties w'hich their mili- 
tary rank imposed upon them, had spent eight years 
parading with the English, returning in due course 


78 


MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAN 


to Naples to receive the rewards which others had 
earned, while those whose blood had stained the 
road by which Ferdinand remounted to the throne 
remained despised and even proscribed. 

As a consequence, Brandi, who had sworn eternal 
hatred to the French uniform, now transferred his 
animosity to the Neapolitan soldiery, and after a 
decent interval the brigand changed enemies. It 
was a step in the right direction, for Placido much 
preferred to encounter Ferdinand’s sbirri rather 
than Murat’s agile infantry. 

Placido’s relations with the commonalty con- 
tinued as friendly as before; it was only the military 
wdth whom he warred. From time to time, how- 
ever, since uniforms, as a rule, carry about them less 
coin than any other style of dress, the chief was 
obliged to supplement his income by waylaying trav- 
ellers, and as the English were now beginning to 
visit Sicily (which they had been unable to do dur- 
ing the French occupation) he compensated himself 
with a rich merchant or two, or a noble lord, for the 
expeditions inspired only by hatred and executed 
without profit. 

Unhappily, there is no general so clever that he 


‘'THE COMM ANDERS' 


79 


does not, at least once in his career, make a mistake 
by which his enemy profits. During a certain badly 
contrived expedition, Placido Brandi, with only 
three or four men, was surrounded by a whole com- 
pany of soldiers, and, although the chief defended 
himself like a lion, he soon found the struggle use- 
less. That which was bound to happen, sooner or 
later, happened now; the three followers were slain 
and Placido himself was made prisoner. His con- 
querors received honors in proportion to the services 
they had rendered ; that is to say, the lieutenant was 
made captain, the sergeants became sub-lieutenants, 
the corporals were promoted to be sergeants and all 
the soldiers were made corporals. 

They conveyed the captive chief temporarily to 
Cosenza. We say temporarily, because, according 
to the Neapolitan penal code, the trial of the prisoner 
must take place at the spot where the crime was com- 
mitted. Further, it was understood that the pris- 
oner should be pardoned any little peccadilloes of 
which he had been guilty toward the French during 
their regime and should only be tried for those 
offenses dating from the return of Ferdinand to the 
throne. There was thus little to complain of. 


80 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


Brandi declared that there was only one crime 
with which his conscience reproached him — a mur- 
der committed about four years previously — that is 
to say, some months after he had adopted his profes- 
sion. The victim was a Neapolitan colonel, who 
had left Sicily, where he had been in command of a 
garrison, and who was traversing Calabria to report 
himself at headquarters. It was between Mileto and 
Monteleone that the tragedy had occurred, and the 
prisoner was in consequence transferred from 
Cosenza. 

His trial, from its first to its last stages, lasted six 
months. Placido was condemned to death. 

The morning after the judgment was announced, 
the brigand sent for the clerk of the court. He had 
only just remembered that a year after the murder 
to which he had confessed, he had weakly yielded to 
temptation so far as to commit a second. This time 
the victim was an Englishman, who was travelling 
from Salerno to Brindisi, and the deed had been 
committed between Tarento and Oria. 

This confession nullified the sentence already 
passed on the prisoner, and he was consequently re- 
moved for trial from Monteleone to Tarento. 


^^THE COMMANDER’^ 


81 


A second trial began, but this time, as the self- 
accused came before judges of a more business-like 
turn of mind, the whole affair only lasted four 
months. As on the previous occasion, Placido was 
condemned to death. 

The night before the day of execution a monk 
visited the culprit to prepare his soul for death. The 
unctuous impressiveness of his exhortation so 
touched the murderer’s heart that he confessed, with 
a remorse which was a most encouraging augury for 
the future safety of his soul, that a year after the 
second murder he had had the misfortune to commit 
a third, the victim being a rich Maltese merchant, 
whose ship was at the time anchored in Messina 
port. It was when three leagues from Reggio that, 
tempted of the devil, he had yielded to the inspira- 
tion. 

Such an admission was too vitally serious to be 
kept secret, and the priest begged his charge to per- 
mit him to reveal it. Placido replied that he was 
willing to submit, in expiation of his sin, to all the 
ordeals which Heaven might think fit to require of 
him. 

Tl^ monk, therefore, repaired to the governor of 


BZ MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 

Tarento and disclosed the circumstances connected 
with the murder of the Maltese merchant in such 
detail that there was no possibility of doubting their 
accuracy. The governor, as in duty bound, ordered 
the suspension of all preparations for the execution, 
and Brandi was shipped off to Brindisi under strong 
escort, and eight days later landed at Reggio. 

Every one recollected, even now, the disappear- 
ance of the merchant whom Placido confessed he 
had killed. Nevertheless, as the population of Reg- 
gio consisted chiefly of merchants and sailors, many 
of the witnesses necessary to the case were absent on 
the sea, and the court was obliged to await their 
return. As these witnesses returned to port, their 
evidence was taken in depositions. All this delayed 
the collection of the evidence, and the hearing lasted 
altogether a year. Once more Placido was con- 
demned to death. 

The robber chief prepared to make a Christian 
end. From the day of condemnation to that of exe- 
cution he fasted and prayed incessantly. Thus the 
priest who came to prepare him for his often-post- 
poned end found him in a beautiful state of contri- 
tion. The good man passed the whole of the night 


THE COMMANDEE^^ 


83 


in chanting the litanies to the Virgin with his 
patient, and, although morning found him very 
weary, the zealous father would not yield his place 
by the condemned man, so eager was he to have the 
sole honor of this conversion. 

Placido set forth, accompanied by the whole town, 
and stopped his ass from time to time to address a 
few edifying words to the populace. At each ex- 
hortation the crowd wept and beat their breasts. At 
last the procession reached the place of execution. 
There Brandi, stopping for the last time, began a 
speech so moving that nothing but cries and sobs 
could be heard around him. 

Suddenly the criminal broke off in his discourse, 
struck by a recollection unexpected and tragic. 
Every one shouted to him to continue. 

‘‘Alas, my brothers !” cried Placido Brandi, “I am 
a miserable sinner who does not deserve your com- 
passion ! You think you know the full extent of my 
crimes, but I have this moment remembered that 
barely eight days before my arrest I cruelly put to 
death a poor Dalmatian peddler who had set out 
from Boggiano after Ave Maria, in the hope of 
finding a bed at Castro villari. You see how un- 


84 


MASTEE ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


worthy I am of your kind sympathy. Leave 
me to that Heavenly wrath which I so richly 
deserve 1” 

With these words the condemned began to weep 
in so pitiful a manner that all those present asked 
Heaven to grant them in their turn as beautiful an 
end. Unhappily for the prisoner — who would have 
been assured of salvation if he had been hanged in 
such a saintly frame of mind — there was a magis- 
trate in the crowd. Hearing the culprit’s fresh con- 
fession, he ordered the guards to take no further 
steps in the execution, but to reconduct Placido 
Brandi to prison. 

Brandi protested with all his strength; he abso- 
lutely yearned to die. They were compelled to em- 
ploy force to get him back into his cell. Once there, 
they carefully removed from his reach anything with 
which he might possibly take his life, and in conse- 
quence his custodians had the satisfaction of hand- 
ing him over, full of health and energy, to his fresh 
jailers when they came in dead of night to convey 
him to Castrovillari. 

Once there, it was soon evident to all that Placido 
had spoken the truth, for, following up the clues 


“THE COMMANDER^' 


85 


given by him, they found the body at the very spot 
which he had described. This fact, which proved 
the bona iides of the culprit, curtailed the processes 
of the prosecution, which lasted only three months 
and twelve days. Once again the brigand was con- 
demned to death. 

On this occasion, to the great surprise of every- 
body, Brandi did not exhibit the same resignation as 
he had done on preceding occasions. He showed 
impatience with his jailer and inattention toward his 
confessor. Lastly, when the time came to leave the 
prison for the scaffold and the executioner entered 
to clothe him in the penitent’s dress in which he was 
to die, the brigand profited by the moment when the 
unsuspecting hangman unbound his hands to trip up 
that worthy by the heels and dart out of the door, 
which was half open. Unluckily, two gendarmes, 
posted outside in the corridor, crossed carbines and 
forced the prisoner to step back into the cell and 
allow the attendant to finish his toilet. 

The moment arrived for starting, and it found 
Placido visibly uneasy. He mounted the ass, face 
to tail, and advanced thus backward, followed by the 
brotherhood of penitents, in the robe of whose order 


8(> MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

he had been clothed. They carried the bier in which 
the condemned was to be buried and sang the litany 
for the dead. But neither the sound nor the sight, 
it must be confessed, proved very inspiriting to the 
doomed man. Nevertheless, every one expected 
that Placido would interrupt the journey with some 
of those beautiful discourses with which he had edi- 
fied the multitude on the occasion when he had last 
m.ade his appearance in this role. But the hopes of 
the waiting crowd were disappointed. Placido only 
opened his lips to complain that the ass went too 
quickly. He was not the same man at all — he had 
nothing left to confess. 

At the foot of the gibbet the confessor gave up his 
charge to the hangman. The condemned kissed the 
crucifix for the last time and then mounted the lad- 
der courageously. It was eaSy, however, to see that 
he was no longer upheld by that moral strength 
which enables a good man to die bravely, however 
many times he dies. 

Once at the top of the ladder, Placido looked 
about him on all sides, possessed with a last faint 
hope of rescue. But when he saw the number of 
soldiers attending the ceremony, he understood that 


THE COMMANDER’^ 


87 


his band, devoted as they were, could not struggle 
against such odds. 

Then a sudden change came over him ; a vertigo 
seized him and everything seemed to spin around 
before his eyes. The heavens grew black and the 
ground broke into flame. He felt himself hanging 
above a yawning gulf, where thousands of demons 
awaited his coming with shining, eager eyes ! 

He tried to cry out, but his voice died in his throat. 
There was a singing noise in his ears, as if his head 
were a clock striking the hours. With a last de- 
spairing eflfort he snapped the cords which bound his 
wrists, but his clutching hands found nothing to sup- 
port him and struck only at empty air. He tried to 
think of God and call to Him for succor, but before 
his wits could frame a single thought he lost his 
sight and senses. The hangman had wisely profited 
by the second during which his prey was staring 
wildly about him to pass the cord around his neck. 

Placido Brandi was hanged. 

The penitents made a rush for the scaffold to take 
possession of the corpse, which belonged to them the 
moment the executioner stepped off the ladder. But, 
as it happened that not one of them had a knife. 


88 


MASTEE ADAM THE CALABKIAN 


some held up the body by the feet, while others un- 
fastened the cord. 

Immediately the lifeless brigand was released 
from the rope, they laid him out upon the bier, which 
they raised upon their shoulders. Then they took 
the road toward their home, followed by the hang- 
man, his two assistants and the ass. 

They had scarcely gone a hundred paces when 
those carrying the bier fancied they heard a dull 
growl, which seemed to come from the coffin itself ; 
but as none of the bearers dared to assert such a 
thing to the others, all continued their journey. 

Presently the rumbling sound was followed by a 
hoarse cough, slight, but terrifying enough to cause 
the six porters to stop instantly and stand as still as 
statues. 

Then, simultaneously and as if by common con- 
sent, they let the coffin fall. 

The corpse rolled out of it, writhing and grimac- 
ing like a man who has swallowed a fish-bone. 

There was no longer any doubt. Placido Brandi 
had been taken down just in time. 

So thought the executioner, who, drawing the 
dagger which Italian hangmen always carry, to dis- 


89 


“THE COMMANDER^^ 

patch their victims in an emergency like this, threw 
himself upon the reviving corpse, who had recov- 
ered his senses sufficiently to understand his danger, 
but as yet lacked the strength to escape it. 

Help came to the poor wretch from an unexpected 
quarter. The penitents darted between the execu- 
tioner and his victim, protesting that since Placido 
had been hanged, he had satisfied the demands of 
justice and belonged no longer to men but to God. 

The executioner insisted, the penitents grew an- 
gry. The hangman appealed to his assistants for 
help. The penitents ranged themselves before the 
body of their adopted charge, who, sitting up and 
rubbing his eyes, was endeavoring to recall his scat- 
tered senses. 

A struggle ensued, in which one side fought with 
all the fury of vengeance, the other with all the 
fanaticism of pity; one party shouting, the other 
singing; one calling the devil to their aid and the 
other invoking the protection of God. 

In short, it would be impossible to say which side 
would have been victorious had it not happened that 
the dead, now fully himself again, realized that it 
would be extremely improper to let these holy men 


90 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


expose their lives on his behalf, while he, who was, 
after all, the most interested person, stood by with 
his arms folded. Accordingly he snatched from a 
young chorister the cross which he carried, and carv- 
ing for himself a passage through the ranks of the 
combatants, he struck such a terrible blow at the 
executioner's head with his sacred weapon that the 
man fell like a bullock, stunned by the butcher's 
hammer. 

The two little armies uttered a loud cry. Con- 
trary to all regulations, the dead had killed the killer ! 

The terrified assistants took to flight and the peni- 
tents bore Placido away in triumph, chanting the 
‘'Gloria in excelsis Deo" at the top of their voices. 

This incident gave rise to a fifth trial, but this 
time the offense was one of contumacy. Placido 
had no desire to quit the protection of his kind 
friends, the penitents, and as their Church possessed 
all the privileges of a sanctuary, they provided tem- 
porary lodgings for him there, which the brigand 
found extremely comfortable compared with those to 
Vv hich he had been accustomed of late. 

Placido Brandi was condemned to death for the 
fifth time, but the circumstances of his case were so 


TEE COMMANDER^' 


91 


remarkable that the facts were laid before King Fer- 
dinand for his decision. The monarch looked upon 
the affair from its comical side, and not wishing to 
risk the destruction of his temporal powers by em- 
ploying them against one who was so palpably pro- 
tected of Heaven, he granted Brandi a full pardon, 
on condition that he abandoned his profession and 
lived in Cosenza as honest a life as he could. These 
conditions appeared so reasonable to the old man 
that he accepted them without demur, and once as- 
sured that the pardon was formally granted, he em- 
braced his good friends, the penitents, and departed 
joyously for Cosenza. 

At the time of our story, then, he was living re- 
spectably at Cosenza, with no other sign or token of 
his unpleasant experience as a hanged man than the 
mark of the cord around his neck ; and, as this ribbon 
of flesh looked very much like the order of St. Janu- 
arius (second grade), he was generally known sim- 
ply as “The Commander.” 


CHAPTER VI 


BANDIT BY DIVINE RIGHT 

When Placido Brandi was arrested, Marco, his 
son, had very naturally taken his father’s place. He 
was, as we have said, not so much chief by election 
as the natural inheritor — bandit by divine rig'ht. As 
a consequence, young Brandi, free in spirit like all 
m.ountaineers, brave like all Calabrians, made a very 
good bandit chief, indeed ; but he practiced his pro- 
fession like one brought up to it, as a calling and not 
as an art, with conscientiousness and fidelity, but 
without enthusiasm. 

As soon, therefore, as Marco heard of his father’s 
miraculous escape from death, he found means to 
visit old Placido in disguise, and then and there 
offered to resign his temporary chieftainship and 
give back the command of the band to his father. 
But the good man explained to his son the condi- 
tions on which he had obtained his pardon, and, al- 
though he proceeded to give Marco good counsel, 

92 


BANDIT BY DIVINE EIGHT 


93 


drawn from his experience as a leader, he acquainted 
his son with his determination to retire permanently 
from business. In consequence Marco had returned 
to the band, paid every man his share and forwarded 
to the ex-chief, his father, in a draft on the best 
banker in Cosenza, his share of the plunder gained 
by the troop under his management. He added to 
his father's money his own proportion, begging the 
old man to put it to better use than he could do him- 
self, in order that he might have something to fall 
back upon if at any time he wished to leave the pro- 
fession. 

These details arranged, Marco had resumed the 
mountain expeditions for which the band was 
famous, to the great delight of his followers, who, 
not finding in him a leader of overwhelming superi- 
ority to themselves, feared him less, perhaps, but 
certainly loved him more. 

One can imagine, then, their fright when, three 
years before, their chief, as we have told, narrowly 
escaped capture and only avoided it by scaling the 
abbey wall and by the humanity of Sister Martha, 
who brought food to his hiding-place. 

The band, therefore, submitted without a murmur 


94 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


to the conditions imposed by the Madonna, although 
it meant exile for three years from their centre of 
operations. They withdrew, however, outside the 
circle indicated by the Madonna, and while overrun- 
ning the whole of the rest of Calabria, religiously 
respected Nicotera and its environs. 

When this period of absence expired, the band 
returned to the neighborhood. The occasion was a 
joyful one, for all the bandits had sweethearts, rela- 
tions or friends there, as far as from Scylla to Mon- 
teleone and Pezzo. Besides, elsewhere they had felt 
themselves exiles ; here they were at home. 

It chanced that on the night of the storm these 
brave fellows were sitting at their ease in a house 
not far from the high road to Nicotera, celebrating 
their return to their native soil and drinking to the 
joyful reunion, when Marco Brandi, happening to 
go out of the house, encountered Corporal Bom- 
barda, on his way to his home. 

Marco Brandi had inherited from his father his 
hatred of uniforms, and, although, perhaps, if quite 
sober, he would have been content with bantering 
the young artilleryman, the few glasses of Calabrian 
muscatel which he had taken had got into his head. 


BANDIT BY DIVINE EIGHT 


95 


and he resolved to prevent the soldier from continu- 
ing his journey. 

He walked into the middle of the road, therefore, 
and began to pace it side by side with the corporal. 

After a moment’s silence, which was profitably 
employed by each of the men in taking stock of the 
other, Marco Brandi, measuring his companion with 
his eyes, asked curtly : 

“You’re a soldier?” 

“Rather,” answered Bombarda, twisting his mus- 
tache. 

“What company ?” continued the bandit. 

“Foot artillery,” replied the other in a tone which 
showed his belief in the superiority of his regiment 
over all others, 

“Wretched regiment!” said Marco Brandi, thrust- 
ing out his lower lip in scorn. 

There was a moment’s silence, during which the 
corporal appeared to be thinking over what his com- 
panion had just said. Then he added, as if he had 
not quite understood : 

“You said ?” he queried. 

“I said ‘wretched regiment’,” the other repeated, 
calmly. 


96 


MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAH 


“And why, may I ask, my fine fellow Bombarda 
asked. 

“Because it’s a profession that makes more smoke 
than fire, more noise than work — that’s why. And 
what is your grade ?” 

“Corporal is my rank,” answered the soldier, with 
an air which showed that he expected the announce- 
ment to raise him to his proper place in his fellow 
traveller’s esteem. 

“Poor rank !” murmured Marco Brandi, this time 
thrusting out both lips to express his contempt. 

“What! poor rank!” cried the young soldier, 
scarcely crediting that any man could dare to speak 
such sacrilegious words. 

“Certainly,” replied the bandit. “Don’t you know 
the proverb, 'Besogna died otto caporali, per far" md 

coglione ” (it takes eighteen corporals to 

make a ) . 

The words were scarcely out of the bandit’s 
mouth before the artilleryman’s sword was in his 
hands. 

“You see, the proverb’s a true one I” cried Marco, 
stepping back, “since you draw upon me when I have 
no weapon.” 


BANDIT BY DIVINE EIGHT 


97 


‘‘You are right/’ said the soldier, sheathing his 
sword. “And now — have you a knife?” 

“Does a Calabrian ever go without one ?” retorted 
the other, drawing his stiletto from his breeches- 
pocket. 

“Good!” answered the corporal, doing the same. 
“How many inches deep shall we fight ?” 

“The length of the blade,” answered Marco, “so 
that there shall be no trickery.”* 

“Agreed!” cried the artilleryman, standing on 
guard. 

“And now,” added his adversary, “shall I tell you 
something to give you courage, if you need it? If 
you kill me, you will be made sergeant.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I am Marco Brandi.” 

“On guard !” cried the soldier. 

“Defend yourself !” answered the bandit. 


* To understand this allusion it should be explained that 
in Calabria and in Sicily the people always fight with knives. 
According to the gravity of the offence or the intensity of 
the hatred, they fight ‘an inch,’ ‘two inches,’ or three, and so 
on to the entire length of the blade. In the first case the 
fighter grips the blade between finger and thumb at the 
length agreed upon, so that the fingers serve as a guard, 
and keep the knife from entering his opponent’s body any 
deeper than has been agreed upon. — Author’s Note. 


98 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


The two young men threw themselves upon each 
other with all the tigerish rage of which the Italian 
nature is notoriously capable. 

This duel to the death must have been the more 
terrible for being fought, as it was, in the middle of 
the high road, amid the flashing of lightning and the 
crash of thunder. But as there was no one to wit- 
ness it, no one can tell exactly what passed. Only a 
troop of sbirri, marching from Reggio to Cosenza 
and turning the corner of the road, saw a man fall 
to the ground with a loud cry. At the same instant 
they espied another man, who, seeing the horsemen 
approaching, took to flight. 

The sbirri, thinking a murder had been commit- 
ted, fired. 

Marco Brandi, struck in the side by a ball, gave up 
any idea of reaching his mountain haunts, and 
sought help in the first cottage that he could find. 
We have seen that chance led him to the house of 
his victim’s father; that the bandit appealed to its 
master for succor, and that the old man, in his first 
heat of anger, would have betrayed the fugitive to 
his pursuers but for Gelsomina’s silent, fervent ap- 
peal for the stranger’s life. 


BANDIT BY DIVINE EIGHT 99 

Master Adam needed all the love that he felt for 
his daughter to enable him to stifle that paternal in- 
stinct, so deep and so wonderful, which called for 
vengeance on the murderer of his son. But after 
the first moments of his inward struggle he rose to a 
sublime height of magnanimity. , 

The wounds of the two men were both grave. 
For three days Marco and the corporal l^y, between 
life and death, and during that time the old man 
prayed equally for the “murderer’’ and his victim. 
Meanwhile, Gelsomina watched over the sick men, 
who were now lying in the same bedroom, like an 
angel of hope and pity. As for old Babilana, she 
understood nothing of what had passed beyond the 
fact that two wounded men were in the cottage. 
She tore up the lint and prepared the bandages with- 
out showing either emotion or curiosity. But, as 
one of the wounded was her son, from time to time, 
without pausing in her work, she wiped away a tear 
with the back of her hand. 

Nicotera possessed no surgeon, only a barber — a 
chatterer, but luckily a credulous man — who was 
told that the two young men, his patients, were com- 
ing to Nicotera together when they were attacked by 


L. Of C. 


100 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


Marco Brandi’s band and left on the road for dead. 
The soldiers who had been hunting for the brig- 
and chief continued their journey to Cosenza, feel- 
ing sure that he had rejoined his men, so that no one 
in the village suspected what had really happened. 

For some days the wounded men were unable to 
understand how it was that they had again come into 
each other’s company. The doctor-barber had 
recommended his patients not to talk, and as soon as 
Marco tried to speak Gelsomina placed her hand over 
his mouth. As he greatly enjoyed being silenced 
thus, the young man held his peace obediently. The 
corporal was kept quiet by his sister without any 
need for the employment of such extreme measures ; 
it was enough for her to place her finger on her lips. 
And then the young girl would glide from the room, 
as full of grace and dignity as the Greeks of old 
who were her ancestors, and looking in her whole 
bearing and pose like an antique statue of Silence, 
recovered from some ruined palace of Herculaneum 
or Pompeii. 

At last the convalescents were allowed to whisper 
— a species of dialogue much to Marco’s taste — for 
in order to hear what he wished to say, the young 


BANDIT BY DIVINE EIGHT 


101 


girl was obliged to lean over the bed. So feeble, in- 
deed, was the bandit’s voice that Gelsomina was 
forced to lay her cheek close to his lips. Yet, in 
spite of the weakness of his voice, Marco had always 
something to tell her which took a long time in the 
telling, and this contrasted markedly with the rapid 
exchange of words between brother and sister. It 
was remarkable also that, although Corporal Bom- 
barda had been the more seriously wounded, by one 
of those strange, inexplicable caprices of Nature (or 
of human nature) it was he who first recovered the 
full power of his voice. 

He profited by this to inquire of Marco Brandi, at 
a time when Gelsomina was absent, what had hap- 
pened since he lost consciousness on the night of the 
duel. The bandit, who had no reason whatever for 
speaking to the corporal in whispers, found his own 
voice again, and answered as sonorously as possible. 

In his turn the corporal informed the bandit that 
their host was his father and that his affairs had 
gone from bad to worse since the adventure of the 
speaking Madonna. Marco Brandi inwardly noted 
that the misfortunes of the family had been caused 
by him, and he resolved, like an honest fellow, to 


102 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


make such reparation as he could by offering his 
hand to Gelsomina. 

No sooner had the young girl returned than the 
artful Marco, pretending that the use of his full 
voice had fatigued him, began in a low tone a longer 
and more affecting conversation with her than he 
had ever yet ventured upon. 

Gelsomina answered him only with her blushes. 
Then suddenly, at a moment when no one suspected 
that the conversation was at an end, the young girl 
rushed from the room and threw herself upon her 
father’s neck, crying : 

“Oh, say 'yes’ at once, father; I shall die with 
grief if you don’t consent!” 

Master Adam listened to his daughter’s little con- 
fession like a man who recognizes the full gravity of 
such a confidence. His intention had always been 
never to cross Gelsomina in her choice of a husband. 
As for money matters, his own position did not 
allow him to make any extravagant demands on be- 
half of his daughter. Nevertheless, he did speak a 
few words to Gelsomina respecting the social posi- 
tion of her would-be husband. Not that the profes- 
sion of a bandit was not a lucrative and honorable 


BANDIT BY DIVINE EIGHT 


103 


one, especially in the case of Marco Brandi, who had 
practiced it from boyhood ; but it offered to a wife so 
many opportunities of widowhood. 

Gelsomina reminded her father of several cases in 
which young girls of the neighborhood had made 
similar marriages which had turned out perfectly 
satisfactory, but the old man was inflexible; it was 
foresight and not prejudice which set him against a 
bandit son-in-law. Gelsomina quoted to him in vain 
the example of Placido Brandi, who now led such a 
patriarchal life at Cosenza. Her father replied that 
old Brandi was an exception, that his fate had de- 
pended upon the thickness of a rope, and that it was 
not desirable to base one’s life’s happiness on so risky 
a chance. There was something of truth in all this, 
and Gelsomina returned, with less anger than one 
might have expected, to acquaint her lover with her 
father’s decision. 

Marco thought long and seriously over the point 
so raised. He was not, as we know, an enthusiast 
in his calling. He had exercised it honorably and 
bravely, because those qualities were part of his na- 
ture, and he would have shown them in whatever 
other occupation he might have adopted. He re- 


104 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABKIAH 


plied, therefore, that Gelsomina was not to trouble 
herself on that head; that he recognized the justice 
of her father’s argument and that he was ready to 
sacrifice his calling for his love. From that moment, 
if the parental sanction dated only from his resig- 
nation, he resigned. They must, however, go to live 
in a district where he was not quite so well known. 

For the rest, the fortune which his father had in- 
vested for him, together with his share of the goods 
still in the hands of his comrades, would be sufficient 
not only to pay for their removal elsewhere, however 
distant and expensive that might be. Further, it 
would assure them, if not a life of grandeur, at least 
an independent and peaceful existence in their new 
home, and would also afford Father Adam the op- 
portunity of painting his Madonnas and insolvent 
victims of purgatory on all the white walls of the 
neighborhood. 

This proposal was one which, in the present state 
of affairs, was calculated to give the utmost pleasure 
to the old painter, for it fitted in marvelously well 
with his own plans for the future, and he accepted it 
with all the frankness with which it was made. 
Marco Brandi exchanged vows of love with the 


BANDIT BY DIVINE EIGHT 


105 


daughter and more worldly promises with the 
father ; a kiss sealed the one and a hand grip clinched 
the other. 

Meanwhile Corporal Bombarda, led by the argu- 
ments of his chamber-fellow, had begun to look upon 
military service from another and stricter point of 
view, and seeing nothing better than a life of slavery 
before him, had decided to share the fortunes of his 
family. 

This is how it came about that, six weeks after 
their duel, the two young men left Master Adam’s 
cottage arm in arm, one of them to resign his posi- 
tion as a bandit chief, the other to change his leave 
of absence into a permanent discharge. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE THREE SOUS OF COMPERE MATTEO 

Master Adam had decided to leave Nicotera and 
take up his abode elsewhere, chiefly because of his 
love for Gelsomina — a love which made it impossible 
for him to think of separating from his darling 
daughter — ^and also on account of the state of pen- 
ury into which he had fallen. 

There was something noble and yet sublimely sim- 
ple about Master Adam’s hospitality. The old man, 
when he gave shelter and sanctuary to the brigand, 
forgot not only his hope of vengeance, but his pov- 
erty too. It is true that the daily needs of the two 
invalids had increased his penury, but he generously 
took upon himself to incur all the consequences 
which his kindly action involved. Thus, under the 
double burden of providing for those who were sick 
and those who were well, poor Adam disposed, one 
by one, of the less necessary articles of furniture in 

his household. Then, by degrees, he came to those 
l06 


MATTEO'S THREE SOUS 


107 


articles which were in every-day use, and this forced 
him to betray his position to Gelsomina, who imme- 
diately placed at his disposal all her pretty gold orna- 
ments. 

The old man took them, weeping, and sold them, 
and so, for the first month, the sick men lacked 
neither good nursing nor good medicine. At the 
end of that time Master Adam, who had always paid 
ready money hitherto, received a week’s credit; but 
the last eight days of the young men’s convalescence 
had not passed quite so smoothly. Not only did the 
old painter’s creditors commence to clamor for their 
money, but they refused to supply him any longer. 
However, those days had passed, and as neither the 
corporal nor the bandit had had the leisure to exam- 
ine the house when he entered it, they naturally did 
not notice its denuded state when they left it. 

Furthermore, as the old man did not wish his son 
to trudge the highways without a little money in his 
pocket, he made an appeal, on the score of their old 
friendship, to his comrade, Matteo, and asked for a 
loan. Matteo made a thousand difficulties at first, 
but in the end, overcome by his friend’s pleadings, 
he ventured, miser as he was, to lend the other three 


108 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


sous, exacting from Adam a positive promise that if 
the sum were not repaid within eight days he should 
give his friendly creditor something to hold as 
pledge. The painter agreed to this condition, and 
was thus enabled, when he pressed his son’s hand in 
parting, to slip into his palm this final token of fath- 
erly forethought, which Bombarda was careful not 
to refuse, insignificant though it was. True, he was 
far from suspecting that in taking the money he be- 
came three sous richer than his father. 

It was only when the young men had gone that 
Master Adam fully realized to what a cruel state of 
poverty he was reduced. The house was stripped, 
and of the little furniture which it had once pos- 
sessed there remained only the beds of the two 
wounded men. Gelsomina seated herself on one, 
and her father on the other, while old Babilana pre- 
pared their supper from the last scraps of food which 
remained. These were soon exhausted, and the fam- 
ily were left entirely without resources. Gelsomina 
wept. Master Adam, buried in thought, racked his 
brains to discover a means of raising the wind. 

Suddenly a brilliant idea occurred to him, and he 
sprang up and embraced his daughter joyfully. He 


MATTEO’S THREE SOUS 


109 


had just bethought him that the young girl should 
go next morning to pass the weeks of Marco Bran- 
di’s absence with an aunt of hers, who lived at Tro- 
pea, and who had often vainly begged her niece to 
pay her a visit. By this means Gelsomina, at any 
rate, would escape those privations which her father 
could not have endured if she had remained, but 
which he and old Babilana could well contrive to 
endure, so long as they did not fall upon their be- 
loved daughter. 

At dawn Master Adam borrowed Balaam from 
Fra Bracalone, with whom he had remained on the 
very best of terms since the bargain which had been 
struck between them. The sacristan lent the beast 
without a murmur, and Gelsomina took leave of her 
mother and sprang upon the back of the faithful ass, 
which trotted forward gaily, rejoicing to bear for 
once so light and pleasant a burden. 

Old Adam had decided to start in the morning, so 
that his daughter, on her arrival at her aunt’s, should 
get the breakfast which she would have looked for in 
vain at home. Happily, Gelsomina’s aunt received 
her warmly and also made much of her brother-in- 
law. She pressed him, indeed, to stay a day or two 


110 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


with Gelsomina ; but the old man did not forget that 
he had left old Babilana alone in the house without 
food and without money to buy any. He even re- 
fused to join the company at table, protesting that he 
had promised to return the ass by noon. But he 
asked to be allowed to take his share of the breakfast 
in his pocket, in order, so he said, that he might eat 
it on his way, but in reality that he might carry it 
home to his wife. Then he took leave of Gelsomina, 
promising to go and see her again as soon as he pos- 
sibly could. 

Further bad news awaited Master Adam on his 
return. The landlord of his cottage, who for some 
time had been pestering him for arrears of rent, had 
called and threatened to seize all his belongings. 

When he heard this. Master Adam realized that 
he was at last at the end of his tether, and that he 
could struggle on no longer. He drew from his 
pocket the provisions which he had brought for his 
wife, assuring her loudly that he had eaten his share 
of them ; and Babilana, leaving for a brief while the 
rosary, in the telling of which she spent the few 
leisure moments of her life, began to feast, while her 
husband paced the room backward and forward, full 


MATTEO’S THREE SOUS 


111 


of that agitation which precedes the taking of some 
desperate resolution. At last he stopped before his 
wife, with arms crossed and the air of a man who 
has fully made up his mind. 

“Well?’’ asked the poor old woman, instinctively 
frightened by his attitude. 

“Wife,” replied Master Adam, “the time has come 
for courage !” 

“For courage?” repeated Babilana, in a voice half 
passive, half interrogatory. 

“To be sure. They seized our furniture to-day, 
to-morrow they will seize me.” 

“They will seize you !” murmured the old woman. 
“But oughtn’t we to go away from this cursed coun- 
try with our children and our son-in-law ?” 

“Yes, but they will not let us go.” 

“They will not let us go! What shall we do 
then ?” 

“There is only one thing left for me to do.” 

“What is that?” 

“To die.” 

“To die!” cried the poor creature, dropping the 
morsel of bread which her trembling hand was car- 
rying to her mouth. 


112 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAH 


''Oh, heavens, yes, to die — that is the only way 
for me to live at all comfortably !” 

"Explain yourself !” cried Babilana. 

"Listen !” said Master Adam. "I am going to lie 
down on that bed ; you will run for the doctor, who 
will not come, because he knows that he has nothing 
to gain, whether he cures or kills me. To-morrow I 
shall be dead for lack of assistance — do you under- 
stand? Perhaps then they’ll stone that wretch of a 
barber at last, and I shall be glad of it !” 

"You don’t mean to die for good, then?” mur- 
mured the old wife, who began to understand at last. 

"Not likely,” said Adam. "But once they think 
I’m dead, perhaps my creditors won’t be so hard on 
me. For my part, I shall arrange the matter with 
Fra Bracalone, who has promised to look after me, 
and I shall slip away off to Rome, where you can all 
join me.” 

"To Rome?” 

"Yes, to Rome, the home of art. There they will 
appreciate the talent which every one scorns here, 
and, besides, I wish to see, before I die, that famous 
'Last Judgment’ of Michael Angelo’s, of which I 
have heard so much.” 


MATTEO'*S THREE SOUS 


113 


‘Who is this Michael Angelo?’' Babilana inter- 
rupted. 

‘Tt is another rogue, who also paints souls in pur- 
gatory. Well, we shall see if we can’t find his match 
for him.” 

“I don’t see that any good can come of all this,” 
answered the old woman, shaking her head. “It’s 
tempting Providence.” 

“How the devil can matters be any worse than 
they are ? Desperate circumstances have one advan- 
tage — they cannot change except for the better. Go 
for the doctor, wife.” 

“But what if he comes?” 

“If he comes, it will alter my plans a little, and I 
may, after all, die in real earnest. But be easy ; he 
won’t come. Off you go !” 

“It must be done, if you say so,” answered his 
wife, who for twenty-five years had been accustomed 
to obey her husband passively and unquestioningly. 
And she went to seek the doctor. 

Master Adam, left to himself, took up the frag- 
ment of glass at which he always shaved himself and 
began to “make up” his face as an actor would who 
was playing the part of the ghost of Ninus in “Semi- 


114 MASTER ADAM THE CALABEIAE' 


ramis.’’ We have dwelt too strongly on the artistic 
ability of our worthy hero to let the reader think that 
it would fail him in such a vital emergency. Soon 
the old painter’s face presented the appearance of a 
man seized with a mortal malady and in the last 
stages of the disease. Adam followed the progress 
of his work with all the vain complacency of an art- 
ist, and when at last he considered himself suffi- 
ciently be-wrinkled and bedaubed, he lit the last can- 
dle left in the house, arranged the light with a skill 
and effect worthy of Rembrandt and laid himself out 
on one of the beds. 

Scarcely were the preparations completed when 
Babilana returned. As her shrewd spouse had ex- 
pected, the doctor had refused to come. He had not 
denied the appeal point blank, but pretending that he 
had other more urgent cases to visit, had promised to 
call another time. 

The good woman was about to announce the re- 
sult of her errand to her husband when she espied 
him stretched out on the bed in the mournful, flicker- 
ing light of that last solitary taper. The agony de- 
picted on his face was so terrible that poor Babilana, 
forewarned as she was of her husband’s scheme, 


MATTEO'S THKEE SOUS 


115 


littered a shriek of terror when her eyes fell on his 
pale, distorted face. 

The corpse hastened to reassure her, but in spite 
of his consoling words, she was still trembling with 
fright when some one knocked at the door. 

It was the landlord, accompanied by the bailiff's 
men. He had heard of the sudden illness of his 
tenant, and fearing some possible legal complication 
with the heirs, desired, if it was possible, to seize the 
furniture while the sick man still lived. 

This was not, as we know, a long and arduous 
business. After having visited the outer room, 
which was already almost bare, the men entered the 
second, and without being moved in the slightest by 
the feeble pleading of the dying man, carried away 
the other bed, over against where he lay. Then, 
noting that by a refinement of sybaritism most im- 
proper on the part of a debtor. Master Adam had 
chosen the more comfortable bed to die upon, they 
gently raised the mattress on which he was lying, 
skilfully removed the two lower palliasses and rested 
the sick man on the bedstead. 

During all this old Babilana wept and prayed un- 
ceasingly, but a landlord is, in all countries of the 


116 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAN 


world, a creature apart, exempt from the ordinary 
failings and responsibilities of humanity, and little 
to be moved by prayers or tears. Accordingly, all 
that the old woman said went for nothing. The 
bailiffs carried their work through to the end, leav- 
ing the rooms empty and the cupboards open. Truly 
the landlord had only an income of twelve thousand 
livres a year, which in Calabria is as good as fifty 
thousand, and Master Adam’s arrears of rent 
amounted to fully ten ecus.* 

‘‘Well, my poor Adam,” said Babilana, when the 
servants of the law had gone, “what have you gained 
by this comedy ?” 

“We have gained a good mattress for you, wife,” 
answered the old man. “If I had been on my feet, 
they would have taken it, too. But hush! Some 
one else is knocking.” 

“It is compere Matteo,” said the old woman, peer- 
ing through the key-hole of the front door. 

“Good! Let him come in,” answered Master 
Adam in a whisper ; “but to him I am dead — you un- 
derstand.” 

Babilana gave a nod of intelligent acquiescence 

* A livre=a franc. An ecu represents half-a-crown, English 
money. — Translator’s Note. 


MATTEO’S THEEE SOUS 


117 


and went to open the door. Master Adam crossed 
his hands upon his breast, closed his eyes and let his 
lower jaw drop. 

“So there he is, my old comrade,’’ said Matteo, 
philosophically as he entered the death-chamber; 
“that’s how it is with us, is it?” 

“Oh, heavens, yes,” answered old Babilana, “the 
Lord has taken him to another and a better world.” 

“And what has carried him off so suddenly?” 

“He was taken this morning with weakness and 
trembling in his legs and a dizziness in his head.” 

“Ah ! that’s just how I feel when I’ve had a sup of 
drink,” answered Matteo with sympathy. 

“Alas, it was not for the same reason ! The poor 
man had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours.” 
(The good woman spoke the truth, though her in- 
tention was quite otherwise.) “Then our landlord 
came and took everything, as you see.” 

The neighbor intimated that he saw that quite 
well. 

“That put the finishing stroke to it,” continued the 
old woman. “Scarcely had they gone out before he 
gave his last sigh, so that they can truly boast that 
they have killed him — oh, oh !” 


118 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

‘‘There are some creditors who are without pity/’ 
said her neighbor. “You know, dame, your hus- 
band owes me three sous.” 

“Oh, heavens, yes I The poor, dear man ; he told 
me before he died how much he regretted not being 
able to repay you.” 

“Did he tell you, too, that he had promised to give 
me something as security ?” 

“Yes, of course; but, as you see, there is nothing 
left.” 

“Look here, my friend, where he has gone to he 
will not need that cap. I always envied him it while 
he lived; it will serve me as a memento of my old 
comrade, now that he is dead. With that as pay- 
ment, I will let you off those three sous.” 

“Impossible, my friend — it is impossible!” cried 
the old woman ; “he begged that it should be buried 
with him. Oh, he was such a good man that I 
wouldn’t for a kingdom fail to carry out any of his 
wishes.” 

“That’s a cormcal idea!” cried Matteo, “to be 
buried in one’s cap. Is he afraid of catching cold, I 
wonder ?” 

“Oh, Heaven, have mercy !” said BabilanaTwhose 


MATTEO’S THREE SOUS 119 

absorbing sorrow prevented her from hearing the 
question. 

‘‘Very good, very good, old lady,’’ murmured 
Matteo to himself, “I’ll leave you, for I am so sus- 
ceptible that I can’t see you weep without weeping 
myself. But it is none the less true that your hus- 
band owes me three sous and that he ought to give 
me something as a pledge.” 

“What do you say?” 

“That since you cannot pay me those three sous, 
I shan’t make any bones about taking my security 
where I can find it. Adieu, Babilana.” 

“Adieu, Job’s comforter,” muttered the old 
woman. 

“Ah, ah !” said Matteo to himself as he closed the 
cottage door behind him, “you stick to that cap, do 
you, my fine friend? So do 1. We shall see which 
of us two will stick to it the longer !” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE GRECIAN CAP 

Scarcely had Matteo reached his own home 
when there came a third knock at Master Adam’s 
door. 

Fra Bracalone, on his rounds “collecting,” had 
heard of the untoward event in Master Adam’s 
household, and hastened to visit his friend to offer 
him spiritual and temporal services. His spiritual 
offerings were no more than a few commonplaces 
which he had picked up at odd times from the death- 
bed exhortations of Father Gaetano; the temporal 
gifts took the form of a fowl, for soup, a flask of 
good Catanzaro wine, and some fish, noted for their 
light and delicate flesh. 

As the reader will see, the sacristan was a worthy- 
man, whose word was his bond. When he heard of 
Bombarda’s dangerous state, he had hurried to offer 
him the indulgences he had promised Master Adam 
on his son’s behalf. Unluckily, the corporal had by 

that time fully recovered his senses, and being a 
120 


THE GKECIAN CAP 


121 


strong-minded young man, he had rejected, for the 
sake of the things of this world to which he was pro- 
fanely attached, the joys of the next, which Braca- 
lone had promised him on behalf of Heaven. The 
worthy father, however, did not consider himself 
beaten ; scarcely a day passed that he did not call at 
the cottage and engage the wounded man in contro- 
versy on the different mysteries of their religion, 
arguments in which the sceptic not infrequently got 
the best of it. 

But one day, when the monk and the corporal 
were breakfasting together, and when the table, be- 
sides a generous assortment of foods to appease the 
hunger, contained three decanters of wine for 
quenching the thirst, the discussion turned, as usual, 
on theology, and it happened that the choice of topic 
fell upon the Holy Trinity. 

The corporal, as was his wont, adopted an arro- 
gant, overbearing tone, challenging his opponent to 
demonstrate the possibility of fusing three into one. 
On this an inspiration from above flashed into the 
mind of the man of God, and he asked the corporal 
if he would be converted, supposing such an ‘‘impos- 
sibility” could be proved. 


122 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


The corporal, believing that he was pledging him- 
self to nothing, accepted the terms. 

Then Fra Bracalone took an empty carafe, emp- 
tied the three full decanters into it, and extending an 
arm toward his adversary : 

“There is my reply,’’ he said in a triumphant 
voice. 

“How ?” cried the corporal. 

'‘Tres in unum — three in one!” 

The argument was irrefutable, and from that day 
Corporal Bombarda bravely broke with his scepti- 
cism and thenceforth accepted with faith the other 
holy mysteries of his religion as if they had been 
demonstrated to him with mathematical exactness. 

This humility had touched Fra Bracalone pro- 
foundly, and he became truly attached to his young 
convert, so that it was with great regret that he saw 
him depart for Messina. As a result of this affec- 
tion for the son, he had forgotten his old grudge 
against the father, and this change of feeling our 
readers no doubt divined when Fra Bracalone so 
courteously lent his ass to Master Adam. Any lin- 
gering uncertainty will be dispelled when they recog- 
nize the kind impulse which led the sacristan to seek 


THE GRECIAN CAP 


123 


the bedside of his old enemy with consolations and 
provisions. 

The priest was sincerely affected when old Babi- 
lana, leading the way from the door to the inner 
room, announced the sad misfortune which had just 
happened to her and asked the priest if he did not 
wish to enter and pray by the side of the pallet. But 
the poor woman’s news recalled to the conscientious 
sacristan another pledge which he had given — to see 
that Master Adam should have a funeral worthy of 
his talents. The father, therefore, refused the invi- 
tation, saying that he had not too much time for pre- 
paring the ceremonies of burial, and that, as he in- 
tended to watch by the dead in the church, he would 
there recite by the bier all the prayers which the most 
exacting corpse could desire. Saying this, he re- 
tired, leaving the provisions and promising to send 
immediately a decent bier and one which had never 
before been used.* 


* In Italy they do not bury bodies in a cemetery, as we do; 
but in an immense vault, situated in the middle of the churcti, 
and to which access is obtained by the raising of a slab. 
They lower the dead into this charnel-house and fling quick- 
lime upon each corpse, to prevent any unhealthy results. 
This explains how it is possible for a bier to be used more 
than once.— Author’s Note. 


124: MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


Master Adam had not missed a word of this con- 
versation, and he saw in the monk’s promises and 
deeds both good and evil consequences for himself. 
On the one hand, Fra Bracalone had brought pro- 
visions, and the dead man began to feel the urgent 
need of them; on the other, the monk was prepar- 
ing to fulfil his duty so thoroughly that the living 
man began to feel nervous. If the sacristan re- 
mained all night by the bier. Master Adam would 
have to decide whether he would be buried or run the 
risk of taking the monk into his confidence. One 
course was disagreeable, the other dangerous. The 
artist had counted upon solitude in the church, which 
would have enabled him to get away without being 
seen, and the next day his wife could easily have 
explained his disappearance by saying that the Ma- 
donna of Nicotera had appeared in a dream and 
conducted her artist to Heaven in clouds of glory. 
After this the absence of the body would need no 
further excuse, for the respectable painter, not being 
gifted with omnipresence, could not be at the same 
time in Heaven and on earth. 

This beautiful scheme was now menaced by the 
friar’s zeal, but our readers know enough of Master 


THE GEECIAN CAP 


125 


Adam by this time to be quite sure of his unfaltering 
faith in Providence, for it is worthy remark that 
those for whom that goddess has done the least are 
always those who count on her most confidently. 
Therefore he concerned himself with the present 
only, leaving the future in the hands of God, and 
ordered his wife to prepare a supper suitable for a 
man who has not eaten food for thirty hours and 
who, when the meal is over, does not know in the 
least when he will eat again. 

The good Babilana set to work, and with the as- 
sistance of a few charitable neighbors, got together 
sufficient cooking materials for her purpose, for 
neither stewpot, gridiron nor stove remained in the 
house. In proportion as there remained less and 
less of anything to fry, roast or boil the household 
had dispensed with such conveniences more or less 
easily. 

Thanks to the good-natured of her gossips — a 
feeling which they might not have shown on a less 
serious occasion — the poor woman came off trium- 
phant, and at the end of a couple of hours she had 
prepared a meal fit to wake the dead. 

This, indeed, was the effect of the preparations on 


126 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAN 

Master Adam, who, on seeing the supper carried in, 
rose up with such a beaming face that any one 
watching through the key-hole might have thought 
that the worthy painter had received a foretaste of 
celestial happiness. 

At this moment some one knocked at the door, 
and Babilana hastened to place her dishes on the 
floor and open to the summons. It was the bier 
which had arrived. 

This incident, which might pefhaps have had a 
depressing effect upon the nerves of a less philo- 
sophic corpse, did not take away Master Adam’s ap- 
petite in the least. On the contrary, the good man 
made one of the heartiest meals that, to the best of 
his recollection, he had ever enjoyed. 

He was munching his last mouthful of fish and 
draining his last glass of wine when shrill, discordant 
voices broke into song outside the door. The old 
woman began to tremble. 

“They are the ^angels’ who have come to fetch 
me,” said Master Adam. “See, wife, there’s still a 
little wine in the bottle ; give them that. Let it not 
be said that they went away, taking nothing for their 
pains but their own gilt paper and cardboard wings. 


THE GEECIAH CAP 


127 


Meanwhile I will enshroud myself in my best, as be- 
comes a decent corpse. Go, wife, go !” 

The old woman obeyed, closing the door behind 
her, so that her husband should not be disturbed in 
his preparations. 

It was, as the “corpse’’ had said, the four choir 
boys of the village who had come, according to cus- 
tom on such occasions, dressed as angels in long 
calico robes, pasteboard wings and aureoles of gilt 
paper, to escort the dead, who was to lie all night in 
the church. Behind them came the bearers and a 
party of villagers, headed by Matteo himself. 

The good woman shared among the “angels” the 
little wine that remained, and as, by reason of the 
well-known poverty of the deceased, the celestial 
escort had expected nothing stronger than water, 
they were agreeably surprised by this unexpected 
windfall, paltry as it would have appeared in the 
case of a less unfortunate household. They intoned 
the “De Profundis,” therefore, in voices full of real 
gratitude, while the bearers raised the bier on their 
stretcher and took the head of the procession, accom- 
panied by the four angels and followed by Matteo, 
who led the mourners, and who, thanks to the Gala- 


128 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


brian custom of keeping the face of the dead uncov- 
ered, never lost sight of that coveted cap, the posses- 
sion of which, he was resolved, should indemnify 
him for the loss of those three sous. 

The party reached the church by nightfall. It 
was situated outside the village, being separated 
from it by the whole length of the garden in which 
Marco Brandi had hidden. It stood on the slope of 
the mountain and was one of those picturesquedittle 
buildings which pose so obligingly for thedandscape 
painter, the warm tints of its walls standing out 
effectively against the pale foliage of the chestnuts. 
The church, like all the rest of the abbey, was in a 
bad state of repair; but Fra Bracalone had made the 
old edifice look its best with fresh flowers and old 
hangings in honor of the solemn occasion. 

Faithful to his pledge, the monk awaited the body 
of his old friend on the threshold. The bearers set 
down their burden on a kind of dais erected in the 
middle of the choir, and while the “angels” chanted 
their last psalm, the priest lit up around the bier the 
six promised candles. 

The sacristan’s scrupulous observance of his word 
frightened Master Adam more and more, for he had 


THE GRECIAN CAP 


129 


never until this moment believed that the worthy 
father would fulfil his pledge to the extent of watch- 
ing by the body all night. 

The psalm finished, the ‘^angels” left the church ; 
the bearers followed and the villagers brought up the 
rear, with the exception of comphe Matteo, who 
found an opportune moment in which to slip into a 
confessional. As a consequence Master Adam, in 
place of one custodian, was honored with two, a cir- 
cumstance which, if he had known it, would assur- 
edly have turned his misgivings into absolute terror. 

Fra Bracalone closed the door behind the retiring 
procession, and, returning to seat himself by the 
dais, commenced to mumble his prayers. 

Meanwhile Master Adam was considering what 
it was best to do. Ought he to wait, in the hope 
that the priest might fall asleep — an event which was 
sure to occur sooner or later — or should he confide 
in Fra Bracalone and let him know that he was 
praying for the living, not for the dead ? This last 
alternative appeared to him the more risky ; besides, 
he could have recourse to it at any time. So he re- 
solved to possess his'soul in patience and retain that 
perfect stillness which 'he had so often asked for — 


130 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

and asked in vain — of his models. As for Matteo, 
he was subduing his own impatience, awaiting, as 
Master Adam was doing, the slumber of the sacris- 
tan, in order to put his own plan into execution. 

Part of the night passed thus, and the two men, 
deceived in their hopes, began to find themselves 
extremely ill at ease, on the bier and in the confes- 
sional respectively, when Fra Bracalone broke off 
suddenly in the middle of a prayer, and, springing to 
his feet like a man who has forgotten something of 
the utmost importance, hurried rapidly across the 
church to a little door opening upon the corridor 
which led across the cloisters of the abbey. In truth, 
the good man had just remembered that he had neg- 
lected one of the promises which he had made to 
Master Adam — that he would clothe him, when 
dead, in a blessed robe. So he rushed with all haste 
to his cell, at the further side of the convent, to fetch 
the holy vestment prepared for this mournful emer- 
gency. 

Master Adam and Matteo both believed that the 
hour of deliverance had come. Master Adam raised 
his head and Matteo half opened the door of his 
confessional. The first already saw himself free 


THE GEECIAH CAP 


131 


and speeding across country, the other fancied him- 
self at last in possession of that wonderful cap. 

But at the moment when the two set foot — the 
one outside the bier, the other from out his hiding- 
place — a loud noise from the porch resounded 
through the church, and the door opened, giving 
passage to a troop of armed men, who scattered 
themselves about the church, shouting and laughing. 

Each of the old men withdrew into his shell and 
continued to wait, still and motionless, the upshot of 
this unexpected interruption. 


CHAPTER IX 


SOULS IN PURGATORY 

The men who entered the church so unceremoni- 
ously and inconveniently were no other than the 
members of Marco Brandi’s band. 

Since the loss of their chief the troop had fallen 
into a deplorable state of anarchy and a lack of disci- 
pline fatal to all success. For several days after 
Marco’s disappearance they had, it is true, main- 
tained a certain amount of orderliness, fearing that 
he might return at any moment. But, little by little, 
the belief that he was either dead or a prisoner, be- 
came tacitly accepted. Once the powerful hand 
which had kept its grip on their weaknesses and pas- 
sions was removed, the foolish robbers began to lead 
a life of disorder and idle caprice, giving way to all 
their barbaric instincts, heeding neither law nor gos- 
pel, reviling God and devil every hour of the day, 
singing chants in the taverns and holding debauch in 
the churches. 


132 


SOULS IN PUEGATORY 133 

But on the eventful day of which we have been 
writing, several of these reprobates, having heard 
that the mail from Gioja to Mileto would pass that 
way about half-past six that evening, bearing the 
newly collected taxes of Palermo and Naples, hid 
themselves in ambush between the two villages, and 
putting the mail's escort to flight, laid forcible and 
irreverent hands on the coffers of the state. After 
this they withdrew to a friendly tavern, where they 
all supped like men with ten stomachs and no con- 
science whatever. Then, half drunk and full of 
quarrelsome feelings toward each other, they de- 
cided to go and share their booty in the church, 
where, it was hoped, the sanctity of the spot would 
forbid any man robbing his comrade. This was 
duly proposed and agreed upon, and it was with this 
laudable intention that the band intruded so inop- 
portunely upon Master Adam and Matteo. 

At first the bandits marvelled that the church 
should be lighted up thus, but reflection soon showed 
them that the illumination would greatly facilitate 
their work of sharing the spoil; and in their igno- 
rance of the means which Providence employs to 
punish the wicked and convert sinners, they con- 


134 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


gratulated themselves on this unexpected conven- 
ience. Some of the less impudent among them had 
tried to persuade the others that to behave in such a 
way in the presence of the dead was an act of impiety 
too terrible to be committed, but they had been 
shouted down by the band, and thenceforward, by 
one of those contradictions so common in vulgar na- 
tures, it was these very men who shouted and 
laughed the loudest to make their comrades forget 
their honest timidity. 

Presently, thanks to a last remaining semblance of 
respect for the authority of the lieutenant, the hub- 
bub subsided by degrees, and the company sat round 
and began to share the plunder. They started with 
the most valuable coins and finished with the small 
ones. When all was shared equally, there remained 
— three sous. 

This was a sum exceedingly difficult to divide 
among fifteen men, above all, in a country where the 
decimal system was unknown. It was therefore re- 
solved that the ownership of the three sous, instead 
of being a divided responsibility, should be left to 
chance. 

Every man proposed a different way. Some of- 


SOULS IN PURGATORY 


135 


fered to toss for the coins, others to guess odds or 
evens, but neither method obtained general support. 
Those who had put forward the suggestions main- 
tained them hotly ; those who had rejected them per- 
sisted in their scornful refusal, and the dispute 
threatened to become a quarrel. Big words were al- 
ready passing, as the forerunners of blows, when the 
lieutenant raised his voice above the din, announc- 
ing that he had thought of a plan which would sat- 
isfy everybody and which would afford them, at the 
same time, a source of recreation. 

This double promise earned silence for the officer, 
who proceeded to make a most ingenious suggestion. 
He proposed to prop up the bier so that it should 
serve as a target, that each member of the troop 
should have one shot at it with a carbine, and that 
the one who should plant his ball plumb in the cen- 
tre of the forehead should take the three sous. 

The lieutenant was not mistaken; the proposal 
pleased the whole band and was received with gen- 
eral acclamation. 

Every man assisted in the preparations necessary 
for this novel shooting match. One fixed the dis- 
tance, another prepared the gun, a third measured 


136 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


the powder, a fourth counted the balls. Then, when 
all the preliminaries were completed, every one 
crowded around the coffin, to prop it up according 
to arrangement. 

But scarcely had the robbers laid their sacrilegious 
hands on the corpse than Master Adam, wisely judg- 
ing that if he did not wish to be riddled with balls, 
he had no time to lose, rose to his feet in the bier and 
cried in stentorian tones : 

“Soul from purgatory!’' 

At this cry and the sight of this ghostly uprising, 
the bandits rushed panic-stricken from the church. 
They even forgot in their terror not only the three 
sous in question, but their respective shares which 
they had not yet pocketed and which amounted in all 
to a sum of 7,530 francs. 

Master Adam remained for some moments with 
gaping mouth and arms extended, no little aston- 
ished himself at the effect he had produced. 

Then he leaped lightly from the bier, thinking 
that the moment had come for escaping into the 
fields. But, as he was too much a man of sense to 
abandon thus the goods that Heaven sent, and as he 
had often heard Fra Bracalone himself say that 


SOULS IN PURGATOEY 


137 


when robber robs robber the devil can only laugh, he 
prepared to make the devil laugh heartily by robbing 
fifteen robbers at once. 

He took the robe which had served as his shroud, 
spread it on the floor of the church, and in a minute 
had merged the different heaps of coin into one glit- 
tering pile. 

He had just completed this pleasant task and was 
gloating with all the greed of life-long poverty over 
the gold, silver and copper displayed before him 
when he felt himself touched on the shoulder, and a 
voice breathed in his ear these terrible, unexpected 
words : 

‘‘Shares, comrade 

Master Adam turned around swiftly and saw 
Matteo standing there before him, with his arms 
folded and a jeering smile on his face. 

There were only two courses to adopt : To lose all 
or to share and insure the silence of his comrade by 
making him an accomplice. Master Adam did not 
hesitate a moment. 

With that rapidity of decision of which our read- 
ers have already seen plenty of examples, he invited 
his compere to sit opposite to him and spread out his 


138 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAH 


handkerchief. The money, shared once more, gave 
each of them 3,765 francs. 

There remained once again the three sous which 
had caused the robbers so much trouble and disput- 
ing. Master Adam pointed this out with a laugh. 

“Exactly,” said Matteo, stretching out his hand 
for the coins ; “they are the three sous you owe me. 
Give me them.” 

“That’s good!” cried Master Adam, putting the 
coins out of the other’s reach, “I make you a present 
of 3,765 francs and you still clamor for those three 
sous 1” 

“I ask for them because you owe me them,” re- 
plied the other, “and I will pester you until you pay 
me them. Come, you are rich enough to pay your 
debts now; give me my three sous.” 

*'Your three sous ! I think you had better say my 
three sous.” 

“Will you give me my three sous?” cried Matteo, 
seizing Master Adam by the hair. 

“Will you let my three sous alone?” cried Master 
Adam, clutching Matteo by the neck. 

The pair had now gone too far to draw back ; be- 
sides, they were headstrong, like all Calabrians, and 


SOULS IN PURGATORY 


139 


so each continued to tussle with the other, shouting 
at the top of his voice : 

“My three sous ! my three sous 

Let us leave these venerable squabblers for the 
moment, to choke each other at their leisure and 
shout at their own sweet will, and return to the ban- 
dits. 

The troop had fled as if all the fiends of hell were 
at their heels. But headlong as their flight was, it 
was obviously necessary to stop when they lacked 
breath for any further effort. Some of them leaned 
against the trees, others seated themselves on slabs 
of rock; some threw themselves on their stomachs, 
others fell flat on their backs. 

As their breathing grew more regular and less 
painful, it began to dawn upon one of them that they 
might, after all, have been deceived and have been 
the dupes of some optical or mental delusion. He 
hinted this opinion timidly, but their fright was too 
recent for the troop to come round to his view so 
suddenly. 

However, when another ten minutes had passed, 
the calmness of the night and the cool, refreshing air 
calmed the brows and spirits of the fugitives. Nature 


140 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


all around them appeared so serene, so fixed and 
peaceful that they could not believe that scarcely a 
quarter of a league away the whole order of the ma- 
terial universe was being reversed in one of its pri- 
mal laws. Their thoughts did not take this form 
precisely, but in whatever fashion the idea came to 
them, it made fully as strong an impression. 

Thus, after a further space of silence, they became 
almost convinced that they were too hasty in leaving 
the church, especially as they had left their money 
and weapons there. One of the troop proposed to 
return and fetch them, and although, after the fate 
of the previous suggestion made a few minutes be- 
fore, one would have thought that the band would 
reject the proposal with terror, they actually wel- 
comed it. Every man had now plucked up courage 
and overcome his terror. But during this process 
each one restrained his sense of shame, and the troop 
therefore rose to their feet silently and started for 
the church again without uttering a word. 

In spite of the bold resolution which every man 
had taken to himself, in proportion as they drew 
near to the church once more the bandits began to 
feel inward shiverings, certain symptoms of return- 


SOULS IN PURGATORY 


141 


ing fear. From time to time the foremost brigand 
stopped to listen, and all the others stopped and lis- 
tened with him. Then followed a silence, during 
which each man could hear the beating of his own 
heart. Finally they all started forward again at a 
pace which slackened more and more the nearer they 
approached the spot whither every one was tending, 
but where nobody wished to arrive. 

At length they reached the top of a hillock, from 
which they could see the church — a black mass, with 
glowing windows. This showed them that the mor- 
tuary dais was still lighted up. 

The bandits turned to one another, mutely and 
mutually asking whether they should go any further. 
At last the lieutenant, seeing the general hesitation, 
made up his mind, and announced that he would go 
alone. Being, as he was, in a state of grace, in con- 
sequence of having that morning received absolution 
from a monk (whom he had robbed), he could, he 
declared, venture forward with less risk to his soul 
than the others could do. 

The band promised to wait for him. The lieuten- 
ant crossed himself and set off. 

His comrades followed his movements with their 


U2 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


eyes — for the night was so truly Oriental in its lim- 
pid brightness as to be clearer than our Western twi- 
lights — and saw him advance at a steady pace to- 
ward the church, passing from their view into dim 
and dimmer shadow. Then he was lost to sight in 
the darkness, and all the troop remained silent and 
motionless, their eyes fixed on the spot where he had 
passed out of sight and where he ought in due course 
to reappear. 

Two minutes passed thus, in the solemn, tranquil 
stillness of the night, which inspired those poor, 
superstitious souls with more fear than a volley of 
musketry would have done. 

Then they saw, breaking through the night like 
dawn from the darkness, a man’s figure, running 
rapidly toward them. Their first instinct, it must 
be confessed, on seeing the lieutenant’s headlong 
pace, was to run without waiting for him; but, 
quickly observing that no one was pursuing him, 
they felt ashamed of their terror. 

The lieutenant, for his part, had no sooner spied 
them than he doubled his pace, and in a few minutes 
arrived in their midst, pale and panting and his hair 
bristling with fright. 


SOULS IN PUEOATORY 


143 


'‘Well cried one of the bandits, “is that damned 
soul there still 

“I should rather think so replied the lieutenant, 
gasping for breath after every word. “Yes, yes, it’s 
there, and others with it !” 

“Have you seen them ?” 

“No, but I listened at the door.” 

“Then how do you know there are so many ?” 

“How do I know ? I know because I heard them, 
each of them demanding his three sous; and you 
can guess how many there must be, when out of 
7,530 francs there’s only three sous apiece !” 

The impression produced by such a story on men 
in their state of mind may be guessed. Each one 
made openly the sign of the cross and inwardly 
vowed to live in future the life of an honest man, 
so convincingly had the lieutenant told his experi- 
ences. 

The fact is that he had reached the door of the 
church at the moment when Master Adam and Mat- 
teo were at the height of their quarrel. They were 
pummelling each other and shouting in such absorb- 
ing frenzy that they never saw that they were sur- 
rounded by a dozen gendarmes, whose presence even 


144 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


they did not notice until the corporal in command 
cried to them, in a voice of thunder : 

“Lay down your arms, wretches! You are my 
prisoners !’’ 


CHAPTER X 


THE EARTHQUAKE 

When Marco Brandi arrived at the capital of 
Calabria he found half of its houses in ruins and the 
other half empty. The people were camping out in 
the fields. There had been an earthquake during the 
night. 

He himself had passed that fateful night at a 
lonely inn, some three leagues from Cosenza, and 
during his first sleep had felt his bed move, but had 
believed himself to be dreaming. In the morning 
he had found his bed standing in the middle of the 
room, and as, at the same time, he spied daylight 
through the cracks in the solid walls, he began to un- 
derstand what had happened. The landlord, who 
was a lighter sleeper, had fled from the house at the 
first shock and left Brandi in sole possession. 

Marco, who would not have felt the least scruple 
in robbing a traveller on the highway, would have 
considered it most dishonorable to leave the house 

145 


146 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


without paying his reckoning. He accordingly cal- 
culated the cost of his supper and bed, and adding to 
the bill some small silver for the waiting-maid, he 
left the money in the most conspicuous spot in the 
room and went out. He was uneasy at the probable 
effect of the earthquake on Cosenza, although the 
shocks themselves had affected him so lightly three 
leagues away. 

The nearer he drew to the town the more his fears 
seemed justified. Every house that he passed on his 
way showed more or less alarming results of the up- 
heaval. But it was when he reached the summit of 
the mountains which overlook Cosenza from Marto- 
rano that he obtained a bird’s-eye view of the catas- 
trophe. 

The earthquake had visited the town from end to 
end with every variety of misfortune and caprice. 
Here a house had been left standing, whole and 
sound, in the middle of a street laid in ruins ; there a 
house, facing the north, had been turned round and 
made to face the south ; another had disappeared en- 
tirely, swallowed up in the gulf which had closed 
over it ; a fourth remained denuded, leaning only on 
its frail supports and trembling like a drunken man. 


THE EARTHQUAKE 


147 


And from the ruins arose the wailing of human 
voices and the bellowing of animals in pain, with a 
pitiful iteration enough to freeze the blood in the 
heart of the stoutest. 

Young Brandi drew near to this scene of desola- 
tion, his mind troubled by the thought that his father 
might be there among those victims of Nature. He 
tried everywhere to learn something of Placido’s 
whereabouts, but the old bandit lived on the opposite 
side of the town, and his son was obliged to traverse 
Cosenza from end to end before he could hope to 
obtain any news of the old man. 

On reaching the little stream which ran through 
the town, the young bandit found that the earth- 
quake had diverted its course and that its bed was 
now left dry. Workmen were busy there already, 
digging furiously at the mud. They were doing so 
under the direction of the local antiquaries who, it 
seemed, had read in Jornandes that the body of 
Alaric the Goth, enclosed in three caskets of gold, 
silver and bronze respectively, had been buried in the 
bed of this rivulet by his soldiers, who had for this 
purpose divided the course of the Busento for a few 
hours and had then permitted it to return to its 


148 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAN 

banks. This time it was not the hand of man which 
had undertaken this gigantic task, but God, who had 
breathed upon the waters so that they were not. 

Marco drew near to the diggers and asked them 
why they were digging there while wretched, half- 
buried, half-dead people were clamoring for the help 
of their spades. They answered that they were 
searching for the body of Alaric, who had been 
buried there fourteen hundred years before. Brandi 
resumed his journey, believing that the shock of the 
night before had sent the Cosenzans mad. 

About a hundred paces further on the traveller 
came upon a group consisting of an old man, three 
or four monks and a dozen sisters of charity, who 
were at work on the ruins of a house, from which 
came most pitiable cries for help. On drawing 
nearer, Marco recognized his father in the old man 
who was directing operations. The two Brandis 
threw themselves delightedly into each other’s arms, 
and then, taking up a pick-axe apiece, set to work 
with joyous energy. They had the good fortune to 
save the lives of a mother and her two children. 

Meanwhile the workers in the bed of the Busento 
were at the height of their happiness. They had 


THE EARTHQUAKE 149 

just come upon a little bronze horse, worth quite 
half a crown. 

Marco and his father hastened to another house, 
where their help was urgently needed, while the 
savants continued their search. All day the two 
parties labored, the one to save the living and the 
other to discover and despoil the dead. At night, 
overcome with fatigue, Placido and his son returned 
to the old man's home, which remained standing in 
the midst of the ruins of its street. The antiquaries 
camped in the bed of the river. 

The two Brandis must have possessed a nerve 
which indicated both courage and disdain to sleep 
calmly in a house which might crash in upon them 
at any moment, and they were almost the only peo- 
ple in the town who dared to trust to the shelter of a 
roof that night. 

The inhabitants generally took refuge in the fields 
and hastily built a sort of bivouac with beams and 
straw. This improvised camp might well have been 
mistaken for a Hottentot kraal if the aristocracy of 
the refugees ( for class distinction exists everywhere, 
even at earthquake times) had not varied the mon- 
otony of these huts with rows of carriages, the horses 


150 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

standing harnessed in the shafts, the masters within 
and the coachmen on the box. The owners, no 
doubt, found this movable residence more comfort- 
able, more convenient and, above all, less vulgar than 
the barracks about them. Nothing could be much 
more miserable than the inhabitants of this wretched, 
improvised town, in which all the people had some- 
thing or somebody to mourn for, and where those 
who had lost only all their possessions were probably 
the least unfortunate. 

It was a terrible night, for at whatever hour of 
the twenty-four an earthquake occurs in Italy it is 
sure to remanifest itself the following night. It 
seems as if the earth feared to rid itself of its after- 
convulsions, so long as the sun’s eye was upon it, 
and that it awaited the slumbering of its king to fall 
again into the fever which set it groaning and writh- 
ing with the heat from its burning bowels. 

Every other minute through the hours of dark- 
ness the surface of the soil was seized with shivering 
fits. Clocks struck the hours at all times of the 
night, and cries of ^‘Earthquake! earthquake!” — 
plaintive, terrifying cries — resounded through the 
stillness. There was a melancholy harmony in the 


THE EAKTHQUAKE 


151 


noises of the night, in the prayers and groans which 
seemed, as they mounted dolorously to Heaven, like 
the last sigh of one of the accursed cities of Scrip- 
ture. 

Old Placido and his son slept for nearly two 
hours. Then, although Heaven appeared to have 
veritably taken their house under its protection, they 
left it, not to seek refuge or to lament, but to try to 
rescue the wretched creatures who, though buried in 
the debris of their own houses, still lived and called 
for succor. 

Father and son stopped, however, on the threshold 
of the house to watch a strange procession which 
was approaching them. It was composed of some 
thirty Capuchins, of whom a few carried torches, 
while others, stripped to the waist, flogged them- 
selves with cords studded with nails. They were 
promenading the streets of the town, doing public 
penance for their sins and the sins of the people. 

As they passed, men and women, looking spectral 
in the weird light, glided from the dark corners of 
the ruined houses and fell on their knees before the 
procession, mingling their prayers with those of the 
flagellants, who, as they chanted, kept time with the 


152 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABKIAH 


scourges on their own backs, whence the blood 
poured in jagged channels. 

The old man and his son knelt like the rest and 
commenced to recite the holy litanies, but as the 
monks passed before his eyes the younger suddenly 
ceased his prayers and seized his father by the arm. 

He had just recognized in the chief of the peni- 
tents his lieutenant, Paolo, and in the others the rest 
of his band, whom he believed to be hidden away in 
the mountains and engaged in a very different occu- 
pation from that of self-punishment. 

Marco could still scarcely believe his eyes, and 
being too religious to disturb his old friends in their 
pious work, he contented himself with accompany- 
ing the crowd, who followed the holy men, singing 
their praises. They did not doubt that such a pro- 
pitiatory deed would disarm God's wrath. 

Arrived at the steps of the church, the torch bear- 
ers and flagellants redoubled their efforts of voice 
and arm. This holy example excited emulation in 
the crowd. Every one knelt, the men tore their 
hair, the women beat their bosoms, and the mothers, 
to make the expiation complete, beat their children. 

At length, when the chants were finished, the 


THE EARTHQUAKE 


153 


torch bearers led the way into the church ; the flagel- 
lants followed, one by one. But Paolo, like a gen- 
eral commanding a retreat, remained to the last. 
He was about to enter, too, when Marco Brandi 
seized him by the arm. 

The lieutenant, whose conscience, in spite of the 
affecting penance which he had just undergone, had 
probably plenty of sins yet upon it, tried to free him- 
self without looking round, judging it prudent not to 
show his face to one who was evidently so desirous 
of seeing it. But the next moment he heard his 
name spoken by a voice which he knew well. 

‘'Captain !” he cried, turning round. 

“Myself,’" answered Marco. “What the devil are 
you doing here ?” 

“You see, captain, the grace of Heaven has 
touched us, and we are doing penance for our past.” 

“That is lucky, indeed,” answered Marco, “for I 
was on my way to resign the chieftainship of the 
band, and I was terribly afraid I should have to deal 
with a set of hardened sinners.” 

“I congratulate you, captain, on your return to a 
holy life,” answered the lieutenant with profound 
humility. “But won’t you tell us how it is that we 


154 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


find you here, when we thought you a prisoner or 
dead?” 

“Very good. And you, in turn, shall tell me how 
it is that I find you decked out in monkish robes, 
when I left you wrapped in bandits' cloaks ?” 

“Yes, captain. But come into the church; we can 
talk better there. I always go in fear that some- 
where in the crowd there may be a gendarme who 
will think it a laudable act, in the sight of Heaven, to 
seize me by the collar, and just now when I felt my- 
self arrested by you, I was not in the least resigned. 
I am repentant enough to be penitent, but not ripe 
for martyrdom yet, by a long way.” 

Marco followed Paolo into the church, laughing 
to himself at the fright which he had given his old 
lieutenant. 

In the sacristy Marco Brandi found the rest of the 
band, who greeted him with unfeigned joy, for, as 
we have said, their chief was greatly loved by his 
men. But, in spite of themselves, a touch of fear 
marred their pleasure ; the poor wretches began to be 
afraid that Marco had sought them out to lead them 
back to the paths of sin. 

Paolo hastened to reassure them, informing them 


THE EAETHQUAKH 


155 


that their old chief, if not repentant like themselves, 
was at least converted to honesty, and that, far from 
wishing to recall them, he had intended to resign his 
leadership and relieve them of their oath. From the 
moment that this was understood nothing marred 
the pleasure of the reunion. 

Marco acquainted his old followers with the mo- 
tives which had caused him to wish to retire into 
private life. They congratulated him with all their 
hearts and in turn described the apparition of the 
dead man in the church where they were sharing 
their plunder, and told how, already affected by that 
incident, they had retired into the mountains with 
the intention of giving up brigandage, when the 
earthquake of the night before, evidently caused by 
the act of sacrilege which they had committed, had 
confirmed them in their pious intention. 

They had then, they told him, set out for Cosenza, 
where there was a convent of Capuchins renowned 
for twenty leagues about for their piety, and had 
allowed themselves to be brought before the prior, 
to whom they had confessed their sins, submitting 
beforehand to whatever penalty he might impose. 
The prior (who did not neglect to forward the wel- 


156 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABEIAH 

fare of his order when it did not conflict with the 
service of Heaven) resolved to make capital out of 
this wholesale and unexpected repentance. He had 
accordingly organized that midnight procession, it 
being understood that the harder the flagellants 
scourged themselves the greater the honor to the 
order. We have seen how conscientiously the ban- 
dits carried out this instruction, so that the pious in- 
spiration of the prior was rewarded. Besides, in 
case no further quakings were felt, every one was at 
liberty to think, if he chose, that the cessation of the 
disastrous convulsions was attributable to the be- 
nevolent intervention of the reverend Capuchin 
fathers. 

From the moment that he had recognized Paolo 
and ascertained that all his old troop were present, 
Marco had determined to make use of the men, whom 
he knew to be courageous at bottom and whose de- 
votion he had more than once proved for his own 
purposes. He therefore addressed them at once, as 
a brave man speaking to his kind, and while praising 
them for the step they had taken, pointed out that 
their submission would probably be still more ac- 
ceptable to God if, after employing spiritual means 


THE EARTHQUAKE 


157 


to guard against the evils of the future, they should 
by temporal means atone, as far as they were able, 
for the misdeeds of the past. There were, he pointed 
out, fifteen of them, vigorous, brave, shrewd men; 
every one of whom was needed to give help in the 
different quarters of the town where it was most 
needed. Three or four sufferers snatched from 
death, added the ex-chief, and whose prayers would 
intercede with Heaven for their rescuers, were allies 
whom the bandits could not afford to despise, con- 
sidering that Heaven might justly look upon their 
repentance as a tolerably late one. 

Such a proposal could only have been accepted, 
but it was received with real enthusiasm, and under 
the guidance of their late chief, the brigands scat- 
tered themselves in all parts of the town, risking 
their lives with wonderful audacity and infusing 
courage into the most cowardly by their example. 
Their efforts had already been rewarded, and five or 
six wretches had been dug out of the ruins, when 
loud cries were heard coming from the bed of the 
Busento. 

Every one ran to the spot, but prompt as was their 
action, they arrived too late. 


158 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABKIAH 


Heaven, which had made the stream run dry the 
day before, had just ordered it back to its channel; 
and the waters had rushed in suddenly, bounding 
forward like horses in a race, and had swept away 
seaward the respectable gentlemen who, in their en- 
thusiasm for archaeology, had not left even for a 
moment the spot where they hoped to disinter the 
coffin of Alaric. 

This accident was the last which befel the inhabi- 
tants of Cosenza on this occasion. The shocks 
which succeeded became less severe and less frequent 
by degrees, and with the light of morning, which re- 
moved the uncertainty and terror from their hearts, 
new courage came to the unhappy people, who, hap- 
pily, were ignorant of the profession and identity of 
those who had rendered them such valuable and un- 
expected service during the night. 

The bandits, at dawn, prudently betook them- 
selves to the convent of the Capuchins, and Marco 
Brandi shut himself up with his worthy parent, to 
receive his benediction and to regulate all such little 
money matters as his marriage arrangements neces- 
sitated. 


CHAPTER XI 


DEVOTION 

We have said that the elder Brandi was a man of 
method. All his accounts were in the strictest order, 
and his son had nothing but praise for the honorable 
and judicious way in which his own share of the 
capital had been invested. But, as the young would- 
be bridegroom was, under the circumstances, in need 
of ready money, he took a thousand ecus in gold and 
a bond for fifteen or sixteen thousand francs, pay- 
able to bearer on the houses of Mariekoff, of Naples, 
and Tortonia, of Rome, and left the rest, which 
amounted to about as much again, in the hands of 
the trustworthy financier who had already almost 
doubled his son’s capital for him. 

Marco had his reasons for not returning to Nico- 
tera by the way he had come, although in the excite- 
ment of the panic which reigned at Cosenza he had 
not, he hoped, been recognized. This was quite 

159 


160 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


probable, as every one had been too preoccupied with 
his own fears and hopes to give his mind to anything 
but the catastrophe which had overwhelmed half the 
town and might next day visit the other half. 
Marco, therefore, set out to return by San Lucido, 
and thence, having bargained with some fishers for 
his passage, he journeyed along the coast to St. 
Tropea. 

On reaching that town, the ex-brigand learned two 
pieces of news which he was far from expecting; 
first, that Master Adam had just died, and next, that 
Gelsomina had been staying in that town for the past 
fortnight with her aunt. He soon inquired his way 
to the house, where he found his sweetheart sur- 
rounded by a cluster of girls of her own age, who 
had come to console her with the customary plati- 
tudes, which in this case doubled the poor girl’s sor- 
row instead of solacing it. Gelsomina’s grief was, 
indeed, deep, for though capricious and impatient by 
nature, she was good-hearted and loved her poor 
father truly. 

When she saw the open door give admittance to 
her sweetheart, the young girl, feeling that God had 
sent her this loving heart on which to pour out the 


DEVOTION 


161 


sorrows of her own, threw herself upon Marco’s 
neck, sobbing unrestrainedly. The news had been 
spread about that the girl was betrothed to a friend 
of her brother, and as the company instinctively 
recognized that lover in the newcomer, they with- 
drew discreetly and left the couple alone. 

Marco Brandi made no effort to console Gelso- 
mina. On the contrary, he spoke to her of Master 
Adam’s excellent qualities, of his love for her and of 
every trait and recollection which might touch her 
heart, so that the young girl felt, as she wept, that 
her lover had poured upon her suffering spirit the 
true, the only balm which could heal her sorrow. 
Then, little by little, words of tenderness and love 
glided gently into his soothing speech, as the sun’s 
rays pierce the storm clouds. Marco ceased to 
lament the present and began to voice his hopes for 
the future. 

He spoke of the plans for their future happiness 
which Master Adam and they had made together, 
and which they would now be obliged to carry out 
without him; and all this he did with such loving 
tact that he finished by soothing Gelsomina’s heart 
by virtue of a delicate instinct of conduct which one 


16 ^ MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


would never have expected to find in a half-civilized 
mountaineer. The dark shadow which seemed to 
have fallen across Gelsomina’s life lifted by degrees ; 
she who had begun by weeping, ended by talk- 
ing, and she found, through resignation, a way to 
hope. 

Toward the end of the day, however, a strange 
rumor began to circulate through the town. It was 
said that Fra Bracalone, passing through the neigh- 
boring village on his usual begging expedition, had 
dropped mysterious hints respecting a certain resur- 
rection which was likely to bring even greater sor- 
row to the mourning family than death itself. Fur- 
ther, in response to inquiries for details of Master 
Adam’s last moments, the sacristan had shaken his 
head significantly, with the air of a man who does 
not wish to reveal anything, but who is willing that 
his hearers would divine whatever they please. 

These half revelations reached the ears of Gelso- 
mina’s aunt in due course, and she, believing that 
nothing could happen in this world worse than the 
leaving of it, acquainted her niece with the rumors, 
which Fra Bracalone alone could confirm or deny. 
Hope is the last thing to die in the heart of man; 


DEVOTION 


163 


and Gelsomina began to hope, without knowing 
what she hoped for or why. 

Just at this moment Fra Bracalone himself ap- 
peared with his ass around the corner of the lane. 
The young girl wished to run to meet him, but her 
aunt restrained her. As the sacristan was about to 
pass the house, Brandi stepped out, and barring the 
path, begged the worthy man to enter. 

The sacristan recognized his old acquaintance 
whom he, like the rest of the neighbors, believed to 
be the corporal’s comrade, and realizing that sooner 
or later Gelsomina must know the truth, he pre- 
ferred that she should learn it from his own lips, 
with all the alleviating circumstances which his 
kindly circumspection and the facts of the case 
would suggest. 

Fra Bracalone had hinted truly that the news 
which he brought was worse than what they knew 
already. It was difficult, indeed, for those who had 
known of his long and arduous struggle against 
poverty to imagine Master Adam in league with a 
band of robbers, and feigning death so that he might 
share the money stolen from the state in the very 
church where he was to be buried. So varying and 


164 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAH 


violent, therefore, were the emotions which the story- 
evoked in Gelsomina that at the close of Fra Braca- 
lone’s narrative she fell swooning into the arms of 
her lover. 

Marco Brandi was a shrewd man and knew by ex- 
perience that the fainting fits of women are often 
long in duration, but are rarely dangerous. So he 
placed his betrothed in the care of her aunt, and tak- 
ing the sacristan into another rooim, begged him to 
retell the facts in fuller detail. 

There was little which will be fresh to the reader 
in the particulars which Marco now learnt for the 
first time. 

As we know, the worthy father had quitted the 
church when he remembered that he had neglected 
to keep one of the promises made to “the dead.’^ 
After an absence of about ten minutes, he had re- 
turned with the holy robe and heard loud noises com- 
ing from the church which he had left silent as the 
grave. Approaching on tiptoe, he had pushed the 
door open softly and discovered that the choir had 
been invaded by a horde of brigands, who were shar- 
ing a pile of gold. Fra Bracalone, who did not 
make the least pretense to bravery, never for an in- 


DEVOTION 


165 


stant dreamed of attacking this formidable crowd by 
himself. He withdrew as silently as he could, and 
wxnt to lay information before the judge. 

At the door of the worthy magistrate, who held a 
high position in the Calabrian and Sicilian villages, 
the monk found the escort which had accompanied 
the mail. They had rallied from their fright, and 
now sought the same authority with the same object 
as himself. The disgrace of having been dispersed 
almost without striking a blow, the fear of the pov- 
erty which would naturally follow the loss of the 
money committed to their care, the thought of the 
advancement which would be theirs if they could 
contrive to take their revenge and recover the money 
which they had allowed the robbers to take from 
them, the ease with which they would be able to cap- 
ture the robbers when they least expected capture — 
all these considerations restored to the sbirri the 
courage which for a moment they had lost. 

Guided by Fra Bracalone, they reached the abbey 
at the very moment when Master Adam had put the 
bandits to flight by rising in his coflin and thunder- 
ing forth those terrible words: '‘Soul from purga- 
tory T 


166 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABEIAN 

Our readers will easily guess the rest. The cap- 
tors, instead of encountering Paolo and his brother 
thieves, had found in the church only Master Adam 
and his friend Matteo. But as the stolen money was 
there, and as these two elderly personages were sur- 
rounded by loaded firearms, it was evident that they 
were the accomplices, if not the chiefs, of that ter- 
rible band of brigands which was the scourge of the 
neighborhood. Some people went so far as to hint 
that “Marco Brandi” was only a nom de guerre 
adopted by Master Adam, and that there was no 
Marco Brandi in existence if he was not identical 
with the respectable painter himself. 

Master Adam and Matteo had been taken to the 
village lockup and the incriminating gold and guns 
were deposited with the judge. 

As Fra Bracalone told his tale, the mystery which 
had surrounded the sudden and unexpected conver- 
sion of Paolo and his comrades gradually solved it- 
self in the listener's mind. He alone knew, better 
than any one, of the real existence of Marco Brandi 
and the innocence of Master Adam. But one thing 
the ex-chief was still at a loss to understand — why 
the old man had feigned death, and so brought about 


DEVOTION 


167 


such terrible consequences to himself. But on this 
point his informant could tell him no more than he 
already knew, and Marco therefore took leave of the 
kindly sacristan, who resumed his journey to Nico- 
tera, while the young man returned to his sweet- 
heart. 

She had recovered from her swoon, but a terrible 
fever had now taken possession of her. As Marco, 
uneasy in his mind, approached the bed, he noticed 
that her words were few and curt, that her breath 
came quick and short, and that her eyes had an un- 
wonted brilliance. Gelsomina recognized her lover, 
but there was something of fear and dread mingled 
with the recognition. She had realized that this last 
misfortune which had befallen the family was due, 
as were the others, to Marco Brandi ; and the fatality 
with which his doings reacted upon her people began 
to terrify her. His first appearance in the village 
had brought about the ruin of old Adam’s credit as a 
painter, the second had endangered her brother’s life 
and nearly broken her father’s heart, and the third 
had now wrecked the old man’s good name. 

As these same thoughts had already passed 
through Marco Brandi’s own mind, he had little dif- 


168 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


faculty in discovering the reason for the young girl’s 
sudden coldness toward him. 

The fever presently became more and more in- 
tense, and a few incoherent words which escaped 
from the parched lips told of the coming of delirium. 
Marco endeavored to take his betrothed’s hand ; she 
drew it away. He seated himself behind the bed- 
head, so that he might not be seen by Gelsomina, 
who in her growing delirium began to call upon her 
father in accents of the most heartrending sorrow. 
Soon she seemed to have forgotten her lover com- 
pletely, and if by chance she spoke of him it was in a 
tone of reproach which wounded the listener’s heart 
cruelly. 

Marco began to feel that this could not go on 
much longer. Delicate and highly strung as Gelso- 
mina was, she would be dead after three days of such 
suffering. The only way to save her life was to re- 
store her father to her arms. 

He hesitated no longer. 

At length the violence of the fever began to sub- 
side ; the young girl’s rambling chatter ceased by de- 
grees, and exhaustion and stillness succeeded the 
state of exaltation and delirium. A sleep, broken at 


DEVOTION 


169 


intervals by fits of trembling, fell upon the sufferer. 
The lover took advantage of the lull, and sitting at 
a table near the bed, he scribbled a few lines on a slip 
of paper. Then he placed in a box the money which 
he had obtained from his father and laid the letter on 
the lid. Lastly, he stepped softly to the bedside 
where his betrothed lay, pressed his lips upon hers, 
passionately and lingeringly, whispered a last fare- 
well and left the house unknown to any one. 

Next morning, when Gelsomina opened her eyes, 
the first person she saw at her bedside was her 
father. 

She uttered a cry, for she thought this must be one 
of the phantoms conjured up by the fever; but the 
old man took her in his arms, and his tears and kisses 
soon convinced her that it was no dream. 

The young girl was eager to know how he came 
there, for she had believed him a prisoner and threat- 
ened with capital punishment. Her father, it 
seemed, scarcely knew himself how it had happened. 

At two o'clock that morning the judge had en- 
tered his cell and announced to him that he was free. 
Master Adam did not need to be told twice ; he had 
run to tell the glad news to Babilana; and then, 


170 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABKIAH 


thinking of his daughter's probable distress of mind, 
whether she thought him dead or only a prisoner, he 
had started off at once for Tropea, where he had 
arrived only a few moments before she opened her 
eyes. 

There was so much in all this that was inexplica- 
ble that it forced Gelsomina's confused wits to 
gather together their scattered recollections of the 
previous night’s events. She began by vaguely re- 
membering to have seen Marco, and as the memory 
of his visit became clearer, she reproached herself for 
having treated him so coldly. But from this stage 
of her recollection onward she could think of noth- 
ing but the ardent kiss which had pierced her slum- 
ber and which still seemed to linger on her lips. 

She looked around her anxiously; Marco Brandi 
was not there. From the moment when her father 
was out of danger and returned to her all the tender 
feelings of her heart turned once more to her lover. 
She called for Marco, but no Marco appeared. 

It was her aunt who answered the call. She was 
able to give the girl at least some little news of her 
lover. Young Brandi had left the house the even- 
ing before, without telling the good woman whither 


DEVOTION 


171 


he was bound, but saying that he had left a letter for 
Gelsomina. Master Adam, indeed, had only to turn 
his head to espy the letter, laid on the coffer. 

Gelsomina took it from him and read this : 

‘‘You were right, Gelsomina; it is I who have 
caused all the misfortunes of your family, and it is 
my duty to atone for them. There is only one way 
of saving the innocent; that is, to deliver up the 
guilty. To-morrow your father will be free! 

“The contents of the coffer belong to your father ; 
they will prove but a poor compensation for the 
money I have caused him to lose and the misery I 
have brought upon him. 

“Adieu! I no longer ask for your love; I only 
implore your pardon. 

“Marco Brandi.^^ 

Master Adam opened the coffer, hoping to find 
some further news of its donor; but he only discov- 
ered 20,000 francs, which Marco had received from 
his father. 

“Let us start for Nicotera this minute !’' cried Gel- 
somina, raising herself in bed. “I must see him 
again before he dies !'’ 


CHAPTER XII 


THE WEDDING DRESS 

Gelsomina^s wish, sacred as it was, could not be 
gratified. When father and daughter arrived at 
Nicotera they found that the prisoner was in strict 
and solitary confinement. 

Marco Brandi was one of the most important cap- 
tures that the government had ever made, and the 
authorities took the more interest in the case as this 
audacious highwayman had occasionally presumed 
to share with them the rates and taxes for the public 
treasury. The Neapolitan Government, like other 
governments, and even more than most, was deter- 
mined that the contributions of the taxpayers should 
not be diverted on their way to the governmental 
purse. So that Marco Brandi had not only no hope 
of pardon, but was treated, while awaiting death, 
with far greater severity than would have fallen to 
the lot of an ordinary bandit who had been wise 

172 


THE WEDDING DKESS 


irs 


enough to respect the public coffers and rob only- 
private individuals. 

The trial v^as short. It is true that the prisoner, 
faithless to parental tradition, made no effort to pro- 
long the hearing. He confessed his misdeeds at 
once and without reserve. Justice, in turn, did not 
keep him waiting long, and he was duly condemned 
to death. 

At this news Gelsomina, who had not fully recov- 
ered from her first illness, relapsed into a more dan- 
gerous state than ever. On the first occasion she 
had reproached her lover with having ruined her 
father ; now she accused her father of having killed 
her lover. For some time this wretched household 
had, it seemed, been flung by Fate from one sorrow 
to another. 

In this emergency. Master Adam, usually so re- 
sourceful, could do nothing but mingle his tears with 
those of his daughter. He had thought of going 
and throwing himself at the king’s feet and asking 
pardon for the young brigand, reminding the mon- 
arch that it was he who painted Notre Dame of 
Mount Carmel on the victorious standards of the 
king’s general, Cardinal Ruffo. But not only was it 


174 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


twenty years since the painter had rendered that ser- 
vice to royalty, which it was therefore very likely 
that Ferdinand had forgotten, but at least twelve or 
fifteen days’ grace would be required to journey to 
Naples and back, and the execution was fixed for 
two days hence. He could only await the upshot of 
events and trust in God. 

Brandi had heard the verdict of the court with 
unmoved face and without either disdain or bragga- 
docio. From the day when he had made up his 
mind to give his life to save Master Adam’s he had 
bravely faced all the consequences of his sacrifice 
and had familiarized himself, little by little, with the 
idea of death. This feeling of resignation, in which 
his courage alone would have upheld him, was 
strengthened by the cruel belief which had entered 
his mind on the night when Gelsomina called to 
Heaven to restore her father to her. He believed 
that the young girl had ceased to love him, and what 
was life to him without her love? 

The poor fellow was far from suspecting that all 
the time he was preparing to die for her father, Gel- 
somina was dying because of him. She had made 
every effort to see Marco, but the privilege was 


THE WEDDING DRESS 


175 


cruelly refused her. The authorities were afraid 
that some friend, if allowed to visit the condemned, 
might convey to him the means of defrauding justice 
of its due. They wished to make an example of 
some one, and Marco Brandi was chosen to serve as 
the “awful warning’' to Lower Calabria, the moral 
sense of which, they considered, he had so shocked 
by his wicked conduct. 

Meanwhile Master Adam never quitted his daugh- 
ter’s bedside. The poor father, who lived only in 
his child, seemed as if about to die with her. Night 
or day, he never went out of sight of her, weeping 
when she slept, smiling when she awoke. Each day 
Fra Bracalone, who had become quite the friend of 
the family, brought th^ pick of his provisions for the 
use of the household. But Babilana exhausted her 
culinary ingenuity in vain on these excellent viands ; 
no one but herself made any pretense of tasting 
them. Sometimes Master Adam would drink the 
broth with which Gelsomina had just moistened 
her lips; that was all. It was wonderful how he 
managed to live, finding food and drink only in his 
paternal sorrow. 

Gelsomina was no longer the same girl. Her 


176 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


freakish whims and capricious desires had disap- 
peared ; she was gentle and tremulous as a wounded 
deer, and her father dreaded this resigned mood even 
more than her former despair. 

At times Fra Bracalone, who dabbled a little in 
medicine, felt Gelsomina’s pulse; and then, coming 
away from the sick bed, clacked his tongue with sig- 
nificant sadness and shook his head mournfully. 
The good man thought no more now of holy images, 
blessed cakes or even of his wonderful snuff. He 
was wont to do his best to prevent the healthy from 
falling sick, but he did not venture to try his hand 
upon the really ill. Nor did he, among his personal 
friends, pretend to have any great faith in the relics 
and amulets so sought after by the public and which 
he distributed with a lavish carelessness which 
should have enlightened those credulous souls as to 
the value which the worthy sacristan set upon the 
relics. 

Her parents had tried to keep from Gelsomina the 
news of her lover’s condemnation to death; but it 
was proclaimed in the streets to the rumbling of the 
drum, and the girl, hearing the sound, which only 
accompanied solemn ceremonials in the village, had 


THE WEDDING DRESS 


in 

listened to the announcement with all the more 
acuteness as she saw that her father was trying to 
distract her attention. 

She laid her hand on her father's mouth, and, half 
rising in bed, had caught the crier's last words, 
which announced the execution for the morrow. 
Then she had fallen back upon her pillow, motionless 
and with closed eyes. From that moment her lips 
alone showed any signs of life. 

She had lain for some time thus, when she heard 
the footsteps of Fra Bracalone, who had come, ac- 
cording to his custom, to visit the sick girl. Gelso- 
mina turned to her father and begged him to leave 
her alone with the sacristan. Master Adam, who 
had by now become simply a machine, wound up to 
obey her slightest wish, rose from his seat and left 
the room, slowly and mechanically. 

Gelsomina reopened her eyes, which were burning 
with fever, and motioned to Fra Bracalone to seat 
himself by the bedside. 

‘‘Father/' she said, when he had done so, ‘T must 
see him!" 

“You know, my dear child, that that is impossible. 
He is in solitary confinement.” 


178 


MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


“Father,” continued Gelsomina, “I have always 
understood that those condemned to death pass their 
last night in a chapelle ardente/' 

“That is so,” murmured the priest. 

“Well, to-night is his last night on earth. Where 
will he pass it?” 

“In the Abbey Church.” 

“Father!” cried the girl again, seizing the sacris- 
tan’s hands with an energy of which one would not 
have thought her capable, “it is your church! You 
can take me there by some private door. No one 
can free him from the chain which will bind him to 
the pillar ; his guards, too, will be there. You could 
stay by the door, where we should go in and out. 
You would have nothing to fear.” 

“But what do you want to do, my poor child ? To 
see him again would only make the separation the 
more painful.” 

“If he must die, father, I should like him at least 
to die — my husband. It is I who have killed him ; 
I want the right to wear mourning for him for the 
rest of my life. All the arrangements had been 
made, we only waited to name the day. God has 
fixed the day; I accept it.” 


THE WEDDING DRESS 


179 


“But your father and mother ?” 

“They will go with me to the altar.” 

“It is impossible!” 

“You promised to persuade the prior to marry 
me ; that is all I ask now. See, open that coffer, and 
take what money you will need.” 

“But how will you have the strength ?” asked the 
father, without even turning his head toward the 
box. 

“Do not trouble yourself on that score, father ; I 
will answer for that.” 

“Well, well,” replied the sacristan; “we must do 
as you wish, I suppose.” 

Gelsomina seized his hand and kissed it. 

“Go and arrange with Father Gaetano,” she said, 
“and I will make my own preparations.” 

Fra Bracalone went out, and Gelsomina called her 
father and mother into the room. 

“I am going to be married to Marco,” she said ; 
“you will attend me to the altar, won't you, father; 
won’t you, mother?” 

The old people fancied that she had gone mad, and 
began to sob. 

“There is no time to lose; I must get my clothes 


180 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


ready/’ continued Gelsomina, her eyes shining with 
feverish brilliancy. “A white robe, that is all; a 
robe which will serve me for my wedding and my 
burial. Send for Gidsa and Laura ; they will come 
and help me.” 

These were two of Gelsomina’s friends. 

Master Adam and old Babilana went away, the 
one to fetch the young girls, the other to buy the 
cloth which Gelsomina required. Both believed they 
were obeying the mad fantasy of her fever, but they 
loved their daughter too well to refuse her anything. 

Soon Master Adam returned with Gidsa and 
Laura, and five minutes later Babilana entered with 
the cloth. 

‘'My friends,” said Gelsomina, raising herself in 
the bed, “you will help me, I know, for this robe 
must be made by to-night.” 

The two girls looked at each other in amazement, 
but they bowed their heads as a sign that they were 
at Gelsomina’s orders. 

The sick girl took the scissors and cut the cloth 
into lengths herself. Then she gave a share of the 
work to each of her companions, who seated them- 
selves on either side of the bed. Gelsomina had re- 


THE WEDDING DEESS 


181 


served a third of the sewing for herself, and the 
three set to work. As they worked, Master Adam 
recited the prayers for the dead. 

By night the wedding robe was made. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE VIATICUM 

Marco Brandi had been taken to the church, 
where he was to pass the night. In the centre of the 
nave, surrounded by burning tapers, stood the bier 
where the body of the doomed man was to lie after 
his execution, and a ring had been fixed to one of the 
pillars of the choir from which there hung a chain, 
long enough to allow the prisoner to reach and kneel 
upon the steps of the altar. 

The condemned man looked upon these terrible 
preparations quite calmly; he only asked that his 
hands should be freed, so that he might join them in 
prayer. As he was now chained by the waist and a 
company of sbirri with loaded carbines were to keep 
him in their sight all the night through, this last 
grace was granted him. 

The brigand was attended by a monk, who had 
sought him out in his prison to prepare him for 

death, and whom he received with that reverence 
182 


THE VIATICUM 


183 


which he had always shown for the church. As we 
have said, it was neither from despair nor impiety, 
but simply because he was born, as it were, with a 
dagger in his belt and a carbine in his hand, that the 
young man had adopted the occupation in which he 
became so famous ; therefore now, when the moment 
of death was not far off, he avoided any parade or 
swagger and accepted with gratitude the Heavenly 
consolation offered to him. Nevertheless, whether 
it was that he did not wish to abuse the devotion of 
his spiritual adviser, or whether he wished to think 
over the holy man's exhortations in silence, Marco 
insisted that the worthy father should take some 
rest. 

The monk, considering that he left his charge in a 
holy place where the sight of all things around him 
should keep his thoughts in pious mood, did not fear 
to leave the condemned man alone, and withdrew, 
promising to return at five in the morning. 

Marco Brandi commenced by praying. Then, 
seating himself at the foot of a column, he was soon 
so deeply plunged in thought that he seemed to be 
one of the statues of saints which stood on either 
side of him, so motionless was he. 


184 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


For nearly an hour he remained thus, seemingly 
without life or motion, so entirely was he concen- 
trated in thought, when he was aroused from his 
stupor by the sound of an opening door. He turned 
his eyes mechanically toward the spot whence the 
sound came, and there saw what seemed to him to be 
more like a vision than a reality. 

Gelsomina, looking pale and sad, robed entirely in 
white, like a bride or like the dead, and wearing a 
bridal wreath, approached, followed by Master 
Adam and old Babilana. The parents stopped some 
distance away, but Gelsomina continued to draw 
near to Marco, who, as she advanced, rose slowly 
from his seat, not knowing whether to believe his 
eyes. 

At length Gelsomina stopped before him. 

‘Tt is I, beloved,'’ she said. ‘‘God did not choose 
that we should be united in this world, but He awaits 
us in Heaven." 

“You still love me, then ?" cried Marco. 

“Look in my face and doubt it if you can ! Am I 
not pale enough, am I not sick enough, am I not 
dying? We. shall part for only a little while. Go, 
and you shall not wait long for me." 


THE VIATICUM 


185 


‘'Oh, God, God! how can I thank Thee!” cried 
Marco ; “for now I can die happy, since I am sure of 
her love. But we have no time to lose; it is morning 
already.” 

“Listen,” said Gelsomina, and as she spoke there 
fell upon their ears the first solemn notes of the 
clanging bell. “It is Fra Bracalone who is ringing 
for our marriage mass, and here is the Prior Gae- 
tano, who comes to speak it.” 

At that moment a door in the choir opened, and 
the old prior, slowly and solemnly, ascended the 
steps of the altar, holding before his breast and 
bowed head the body of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Then Marco Brandi understood, and his love for 
Gelsomina deepened, if possible, more and more in 
his admiration for the woman who came, in the 
face of death, to give herself to him whom the world 
rejected. All earthly thoughts and ambitions passed 
away from Marco, and the two lovers, calm and 
content, advanced quietly toward the altar, for the 
prisoner’s chain, as we have said, allowed him liberty 
enough to kneel upon the steps. 

At that moment the doors of the church opened, 
and the people of Nicotera, summoned by the voice 


186 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


of the bell and brought thither by curiosity, entered 
in a crowd, not knowing what they were about to 
see and amazed at what followed. 

And now, in this little corner of the earth, in the 
poor little church of this wretched village, occurred 
one of those truly solemn scenes so rarely met with 
either in the history of men or of nations. It w’as, 
indeed, a marriage of two souls, for the bodies of the 
lovers were already pledged — one to human justice, 
the other to divine pity — and the grave which was to 
separate them was already present ! 

At last the mass drew to a close, and the husband 
was placing the ring upon the finger of the wife, 
when a last spectator entered, who alone was lacking 
to the picture. 

It was the executioner. 

At the sight of him, the slight glow of life which 
during the ceremony had supported the young girl, 
appeared to die away instantly. Marco Brandi felt 
the hand which he held turn cold between his own, 
and Gelsomina would have fallen her full length 
upon the stones of the church if her old mother and 
neighbor Matteo had not caught her in their arms. 
As for Master Adam, crushed by the weight of his 


THE VIATICUM 


187 


despair, he stood, without voice or movement, cling- 
ing for support to one of the pillars. 

They parted the chained husband and the swoon- 
ing wife ; the peasants left the church in the wake of 
the prisoner ; the penitents took up the bier and fol- 
lowed the procession. But Master Adam showed 
no sign of any knowledge of what was passing 
around him. As soon as he was alone, however, as 
if solitude and silence brought back his sorrow, he 
looked about him. 

Seeing the church deserted, his breast heaved and 
a sob escaped him. Then, flinging himself upon his 
face on the cold stones of the aisle : 

‘'Oh, my God!” he cried; “there is none but Thee 
can save them now I” 

“He will save them,” said a voice behind the old 
man’s shoulder. The poor father turned round 
quickly and perceived Fra Bracalone. 

“What ! But how ?” he cried. 

“By a holy idea, which He has sent to His humble 
servant,” replied the sacristan. 

“What — what?” murmured the old man. 

“At what hour should the execution take place ?” 

“At five,” replied Master Adam. 


188 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


‘'At half-past four send and ask for the holy viati- 
cum.” 

“And after ?” asked the old man, who began 

to understand. 

“Leave it to me,” replied Fra Bracalone. 

“Ah, my God, my God!” cried Master Adam, 
rushing from the church, “if only she be not dead 
already I” 

The brigand had been taken back to prison be- 
tween his confessor and executioner, and the two 
hours of life which remained to him were to be de- 
voted to preparations for Heaven and for death. 
The work of both these men was easy. Marco was 
already far from earth in spirit, and was fully recon- 
ciled to the dolorous formality before him. 

When the hour sounded he left the prison with a 
firm step and showed himself to the people gathered 
in crowds about the prison gate, not only with a calm 
face, but with smiling lips. On the threshold he 
stopped and took advantage of his position to thank 
those around him for having cared to assist at his 
marriage and at his death. Then, having embraced 
the confessor and executioner, he mounted the ass 
with his hands bound and his face turned toward the 


THE VIATICUM 


189 


tail, so that he might not lose sight of the bier, which 
was carried behind him by penitents singing the ^^De 
Profundis.” 

They traversed the whole of the town thus, for 
the execution was to take place at the spot on the 
highway where the robbery had been committed, of 
which Master Adam had been accused and of which 
Marco had confessed himself guilty. As a conse- 
quence the condemned man must pass before the 
house where Gelsomina lay in her agony, for the 
young girhs home stood between the village and the 
little abbey church. 

This was the last ordeal reserved for Marco 
Brandi, and the only favor he had begged for was 
that he should be taken to his place of punishment by 
another road. But the judge, who would have 
thought it a violation of his duty to yield to any 
humane instinct, had not deigned even to reply to his 
prayer. The procession, then, followed the road 
arranged for it, and at length drew near Master 
Adam’s house. Happily for Marco, seated as he 
was, he could not see what he was approaching, for 
Italian justice, as we have said, provides that a 
criminal shall advance back foremost, so that instead 


190 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


of viewing the scaffold where he is about to suffer, 
he shall keep before his eyes the tomb where he will 
suffer no longer. 

Nevertheless, by the familiar sights which he 
passed, Marco could soon divine that he was now 
only a very little distance from that door which he 
had entered so often, under such different circum- 
stances, and which he was about to pass for the last 
time. 

Presently, as if every one felt a deep pity for the 
poor child who would be a widow before she was a 
wife, the singing ceased ; all voices were hushed and 
a profound silence fell upon the crowd, who con- 
tinued on their way with bowed heads. Marco 
Brandi glanced round and saw that all the shutters 
of that hospitable house were closed. The door only 
was open, and on its threshold knelt Master Adam 
and old Babilana, praying. 

The procession continued on its gloomy way and 
had left the house almost a hundred paces behind 
when the even, silvery tinkling of a little bell broke 
the deathlike silence. 

At the same moment, round the corner of the 
street, there appeared a little chorister, bearing in his 


THE VIATICUM 


191 


hands a silver crucifix. Then Fra Bracalone, swing- 
ing with all the precision of long practice the little 
bell whose silver tongue they had just heard, and 
lastly the good Prior Gaetano, who, yielding to the 
appeal of Master Adam, was bringing the holy viati- 
cum to his daughter. 

The crowd with one voice gave a cry of joy, for 
every one saw what was going to happen. 

The mournful procession stopped instantly. 
Brandi was helped down from the ass, and judge, 
victim, executioner, penitents, peasants and sbirri all 
knelt to let the holy symbol pass by. But, instead of 
passing on, the prior stopped before the judge, and 
raising aloft the chalice containing the Host, which 
he was carrying to the dying, he said : 

‘‘Judge, I adjure you, in the name of the Body 
of our Lord Jesus Christ, now present with us, to 
set free the hands of your prisoner ; for all the con- 
demned who meet the holy viaticum on their way 
to death escape the justice of earth, pardoned of 
right by the mercy of Heaven !” 

The judge bowed his head in sign of obedience 
and turned to unbind the hands of his prisoner. 
Then Don Gaetano, preceded by the chorister and 


192 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


Fra Bracalone, resumed his way, followed by judge, 
criminal, executioner, penitents, people and sbirri, 
for it is the custom in Italy that all who encounter 
the holy viaticum should follow it to the house of 
the dying. 

Gelsomina, in spite of the pains taken by the 
crowd, had heard it pass, and made an effort to rise 
and look once again upon him whom she would 
nevermore see in this life. But her strength, weak- 
ened by so much suffering, failed her, and she had 
fallen back upon her bed, her eyes closed, her face as 
pale as if she were already dead. 

In this state of semi-death she heard the sound of 
the bell ; she heard the steps of the man of God as he 
approached her bedside, and heard, too, the house 
fill with the crowd. But all this was powerless to 
draw her from her stupor. 

Suddenly a hand clasped hers, and at the touch she 
opened her eyes instantly. 

At one side of the bed stood Marco Brandi and 
by the other Don Gaetano. All around, on 
their knees, she saw her father and mother and as 
many of the crowd as the poor little house would 
hold. 


THE VIATICUM 


193 


The sick girl gazed wonderingly around the room. 
Then her eyes fell once more upon Marco. 

‘^Are we dead/’ she asked, ‘'and in Heaven?” 

“No,” replied her lover; “we are living — ^yes, and 
blessed upon earth.” 

“Now,” said Father Gaetano, ^'Recevez en Chre- 
tienne le Dieu qui vous sauve!” And having 
touched with the Host the pale lips of the young 
girl, he left the room, accompanied by the whole as- 
sembly, who religiously escorted him back to the 
church door. 

There was left only Marco Brandi, who remained 
with Gelsomina, never to be parted from her. 


PROLOGUE BY WAY OF EPILOGUE 


SAINT PHILOMELA 

I WAS at Naples in 1835, at the time when every 
one was talking of the miracles of St. Philomela. 

All our readers will have heard of this holy lady, 
although she is a saint of quite modern creation — no 
further back than 1827 or 1828, at the earliest. 
Nevertheless, her doings made such a sensation at 
this time that she had already obtained a bigger 
reputation than many a holy person who achieved 
martyrdom in the days of Tiberius or Caligula. 
This fame extended beyond the frontiers of Italy, 
for, after having been present at what may be called 
the dehut of the saint in Naples, I found on my trav- 
els that she was already held in great veneration in 
Belgium, in Germany and even in France, where we 
do not, as a rule, revere anything very much. 

Tidings of St. Philomela came to us, however, in 
the height of her fame, and dazzled by the splendor 
of her light, we threw ourselves on our faces before 

194 


SAINT PHILOMELA 


195 


her and adored her, not asking why or whence she 
came. This, however, the most interesting part of 
her miraculous life, was as yet unknown to us, being 
obscure and concealed from the world. 

Now, to me, any new fact or story of the early life 
of Caesar, Charlemagne or Napoleon is more inter- 
esting, I confess, than any description of the battles 
of Pharsala, Roncesvaux or Austerlitz, the details of 
which I know by heart. Therefore I was not con- 
tent with knowing of the present glory of the saint ; 
and, turning my back upon the future, I determined 
to ascend the blessed river, so majestically flowing 
down to its sea of world-wide adoration. Persever- 
ing on my way and advancing, with my accustomed 
patience, from miracle to miracle, I arrived at last at 
the source. It is with the earliest sayings and doings 
of the saint that I propose to entertain my readers 
and transcribe them, if I can, in all their artlessness 
and without presuming to draw any philosophical or 
moral deduction from them. I shall take to heart 
the motto of M. de Barante : 

*'Scribitur ad narrandum^ non ad probandum” 

My readers know, of course, how the first saints 
were created. In these days, when holy men no 


196 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


longer have martyrdom to fear, and great virtues 
have therefore nothing to hope for, canonization be- 
comes more and more rare. This had raised the 
price of genuine ancient relics to such a height that 
one could no longer hope to possess them, unless one 
could boast, like the city of Paris, of an income of 
thirty or forty millions. This state of things (so 
say those unbelieving persons who make fun of 
everything religious) was most humiliating for 
those cities which, being less favored than others by 
religion or fortune, had neither any exclusive relics 
of their own nor the money to afford themselves a 
saint from elsewhere. As a result of this the capital 
of a department, like Arras, for example, had never 
been able to secure more than three hairs of the Vir- 
gin, while a miserable village like Saint Maurice 
owns six thousand skeletons of the Theban legion. 
Such an unfair division of holy tokens was quite 
enough to bring about, in time, such a revolution for 
the re-distribution of things spiritual, as had already 
taken place with regard to things temporal. 

Happily, Pope Leo XII anticipated and fore- 
stalled such a calamity by proclaiming to every city, 
town and village which did not possess a saint, and 


SAINT PHILOMELA 


197 


which desired to procure one, that they could help 
themselves from the catacombs at Rome, where they 
^ would find bones of such, of all ranks, ages and sex. 

It was an excellent idea, and one which it is diffi- 
cult to understand had never been utilized before, for 
the catacombs having been exclusively the burial 
place of the early Christians, the faithful could take 
their saints from them without any misgiving, cer- 
tain that even if they made the choice entirely by 
chance, they could not by mistake pick out an apoc- 
ryphal saint or an unauthentic relic. 

This wise concession bore its due fruit, and from 
that time forward there was no village, however 
poor and insignificant, which did not possess, if not 
the entire frame, at least the shoulder-blade or shin- 
bone of some early martyr. The result of this was 
a general revival of faith, altogether gratifying to 
the successors of Leo XII, who have ever since had 
reason to applaud that Pope's happy inspiration. 

It is well known how the Latin nations, and the 
Italians in particular, have overlaid with error and 
superstition a religion so simple and grand in its 
essential nature ; and our story is only one proof the 
more of this truth, that ignorance and fanaticism 


198 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


can disfigure, with their ridiculous practices, the 
most sacred things. Let it be understood, then, that 
it is of false and not of true worship that we are 
about to speak. 

Toward the close of 1826 the people of a little 
hamlet some leagues from Naples, called Mugnano, 
had the misfortune to lose their pastor. He was 
one of those good, worthy priests, who, without any 
desire for fame or fortune, are content to lead their 
flocks into higher paths by the example of their own 
good lives and deeds. As a consequence, the old 
man, although he had found his church without any 
relic of any kind, had never thought of profiting by 
the benefits of Leo XILs ordinance, and had left his 
parishioners (who, in default of a saint of their own, 
had placed themselves under the protection of St. 
Antony) to continue peacefully in the paths which 
their fathers had trod before them. 

At his death, however, this good man was suc- 
ceeded in his high office by the curate of Sainte 
Claire, who had a crow to pluck with his predecessor 
respecting one of the Italian Madonnas, and who 
therefore bore him a grudge. 

The new cure was no sooner installed in his new 


SAINT PHILOMELA 


199 


sphere of work than the idea came to him to set up 
altar against altar, and to pay back to that Madonna 
of discord the trouble which she had caused him. 
He at once proceeded to open the eyes of his people 
to the “nakedness of the land'' in respect of relics; 
and when the desire for some visible token of sanc- 
tity became generally felt among them, he sug- 
gested that he should visit Rome, promising to bring 
back the best specimen he could obtain of saintliness, 
male or female. 

The majority of his flock preferred a female saint, 
and, above all, a young and comely one (so great a 
part does love play in religion and religion in love 
with this sensual race), and the priest undertook, as 
far as lay in his power, to bring them a protectress 
instead of a protector. It is possible that the people 
had decided in favor of a female saint for fear lest 
St. Antony (who so far had given them cause for 
praise rather than complaint) should feel offended at 
the appointment of a successor, while the same feel- 
ing of rivalry could not exist in the case of a woman, 
to whom the laws of polite society require that all 
men, even saints, shall give precedence. 

These arrangements made, tlje clerical ambassa- 


200 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABKIAH 


dor set out for Rome, visited the catacombs, placed 
in a box the first bones he came to, got them baptized 
and blessed by the Pope, under the melodious name 
of Philomela, and returned with them to his people, 
who were overjoyed to possess at last a saint of their 
own and after their own heart. This, however, did 
not keep the people of Mugnano from continuing 
their devotional attitude toward their old protector, 
for it was only the most sentimental and enthusiastic 
of them who entirely gave up the worship of the 
patriarchal saint for their new and poetic patron. 

But St. Antony had not lived a hundred and five 
years on this earth of ours without knowing how 
fickle and ungrateful is the human heart. He did 
not show the least ill-humor on account of this divi- 
sion of devotion, and permitted the new and perma- 
nent guest in the church of Mugnano to be installed 
without any disturbance on his part. 

Whether it was due to timidity or to lack of op- 
portunity, the new saint, in spite of all expectation, 
gave no sign of existence for nearly a year. Things 
went on just as they did under St. Antony’s undis- 
puted reign — that is to say, neither better nor worse. 
The pastor said two masses instead of one; other- 


SAINT PHILOMELA 201 

wise the parishioners found no change in the order 
of things. 

Meanwhile it chanced that the only son of a 
Nocera cattle dealer fell ill with a kind of paralysis. 
His father, who was devoted to him, called in the 
best doctors in Naples; but all their skill and energy 
seemed to be thrown away, so tenacious was the dis- 
ease. After the doctors, the quacks were tried ; but 
all their pills and powders brought no result. 

At length the poor father, turning his eyes from 
earth to Heaven, prayed for a miracle, no longer 
hoping for a cure. But whether it was because the 
seven Madonnas, to whom he addressed himself in 
turn, took offense at not being asked exclusively and 
directly, or whether their powers of intercession had 
been exhausted by reason of the long list of appeals 
standing to their names, it is certain that things re- 
mained as they were and that the Madonnas ap- 
peared to be as powerless as the doctors and the 
quacks. 

The poor farmer knew not which saint he should 
turn to next, and he was returning from Naples one 
day, full of despair, when he met on the road one of 
his friends who lived at Samo. 


202 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


'‘Well, how is our patient?” asked the friend, 
judging by the farmer’s saddened face of the alarm- 
ing state of the invalid. "He doesn’t get any better, 
then?” 

"Don’t talk about it,” answered the farmer, brush- 
ing away a tear with the back of his hand; "I am 
going crazy, I think.” 

"Why?” 

"Because I don’t know where to turn next. I 
thought of trying St. Januarius, and yet ” 

"Pooh !” cried his friend.; "St. Januarius is played 
out! It is as much as he can do to work his own 
miracles. His own business takes up all his time, 
and he has none to spare for strangers.” 

"Then what’s to be done?” asked the farmer, 
sighing. 

"Listen,” said the friend, "I’ll give you a bit of 
advice.” 

"Yes?” 

"Do you know what I should do in your place?” 

"No, of course I don’t, since I’m asking you.” 

"Well, I should simply try St. Philomela. She’s 
a new saint, with a reputation to make. Go to her. 
The case is desperate, isn’t it ?” 


SAINT PHILOMELA 


203 


^‘Alas ! yes.” 

‘‘Then, if St. Philomela does no good, she can at 
least do no harm. Try her, my friend.” 

“By Jove!” said the farmer, “I think you are 
right, and Til take your advice.” 

And as the two friends had reached the spot 
where the road branched off into their different di- 
rections they separated. 

Next day the farmer determined to put his resolve 
into execution. He set out for Mugnano at day- 
break and attended mass devoutly. Then, when the 
service was over and the church had emptied, he fell 
on his knees before the holy lady’s shrine, promising, 
in case of her successful intervention, a gift which 
showed how truly the old man loved his son. 

He had vowed to give St. Philomela all the 
cows which should follow the bull on the day that 
the poor paralytic could open the door of the stable 
himself. 

From that day forth a noticeable improvement 
came over the condition of the farmer’s son. Six 
weeks later he rose from the bed of sickness where 
he had been lying for more than a year, and crossing 
the yard without assistance, in full view of the 


204 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

household and all the neighbors, he accomplished to 
the letter the saint’s part of the bargain. 

Nineteen out of thirty cows followed the bull. 

The farmer was both rejoiced to find his son re- 
covered and sad to think that the young man’s re- 
newed health would cost him so dearly. St. Philo- 
mela had worked the miracle, it was true; but 
she had made him pay through the nose for the 
service. 

At this stage the farmer bethought him of the 
friend who had given him such good advice before, 
and he was not without hope that his comphe would 
help him out of his fix a second time. He took his 
hat and stick and set out for Sarno. 

The news of the miracle had already reached that 
village, and the farmer’s sad face was therefore an 
object of astonishment to his friend. 

‘‘Well,” he asked, “isn’t the news I hear true, 
then?” 

“Oh, good heavens, yes,” answered the farmer. 

“Then you ought to be happy.” 

“Yes, very happy; only I’m two-thirds ruined.” 

“How’s that?” 

“It’s very soon told. I vowed that when my son 


SAINT PHILOMELA 205 

was able to open the stable door himself I would give 
St. Philomela all the cows that followed the bull.'* 

“Well?" 

“Well, he opened the stable door yesterday, and 
out of the thirty cows in the cow house, nineteen 
came out." 

“The devil! That's very awkward. You don't 
w^ant to break your vow ?" 

“God forbid I" 

“Then there's only one thing to be done." 

“What is that?" 

“This. When you take the cows to the pastor of 
Mugnano (who is probably the saint's man of busi- 
ness), take at the same time half their value in 
money. It is most unlikely that the good man, who 
won't be expecting such a windfall, will have a pur- 
chaser ready for the nineteen cows, and less likely 
still that he'll want to drive them to Naples market. 
Such a present will only embarrass him. Offer him 
half the worth of the cows in money, and try that. 
If he accepts, which he's almost sure to do, you will 
only lose nine cows and a half and you will only be 
ruined one-third." 

“By Jove!" cried the farmer in genuine admira- 


206 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAH 


tion, ''you’re the best friend I have. That’s it; I’ll 
go over to Mugnano to-morrow with the beasts and 
the money.” 

"H’m,” said his friend. "If I were you, on sec- 
ond thought, I’d only take one or the other.” 

"Yes, but if he doesn’t agree to accept just the 
money I’ve taken, I should have to go again and lose 
a day’s work.” 

"Do as you like,” said the adviser, "but ” 

"Adieu, my friend.” 

"You’re in a great hurry.” 

"What can you expect? I’m never tired of see- 
ing that dear fellow on his legs again. Dear St. 
Philomela! There’s a wonderful saint for you. 
Adieu 1” 

"Adieu, my friend.” 

And the farmer returned home, delighted at the 
means of escape which his friend had pointed out to 
him, and never doubting that it would be satisfac- 
torily successful. 

Next morning he left home, driving his nineteen 
cows before him and carrying in his pocket half the 
value of the beasts in money — that is to say, five 
hundred Roman ecus. 


SAINT PHILOMELA 


207 


He finished his journey without hindrance and 
arrived at Mugnano in the pleasantest possible man- 
ner. There he drove the cattle into the courtyard of 
the vicarage and went upstairs to see the pastor. 

The priest was much astonished to hear the farm- 
er’s news. He was, of course, quite unaware of the 
vow made to the saint, and consequently was at a 
loss to account for this invasion of his premises by 
the horned guests down below, who were crowded 
together and busily engaged in seeing which could 
bellow the loudest. 

The mystery was explained by the farmer in a few 
words, and as there was nothing in all this which 
was not flattering to himself and respectful to his 
saint, the good man received the donor with a smil- 
ing face, which gave the farmer every hope of suc- 
cessfully concluding the negotiations which he had 
come to propose. 

The cure, indeed, was obliging enough in the 
matter of cattle, for he quite saw that it would pay 
St. Philomela considerably better to take tribute in 
money than in kind. So, after haggling for a while 
about the price, he ended by accepting the five hun- 
dred Roman ecus which the other had brought. 


208 MASTEK ADAM THE CALABRIAN 


The farmer went down into the courtyard, de- 
lighted to have come off so cheaply and without 
leaving the saint any grounds for reproaching 
him. 

He set to work to drive the beasts out of the court- 
yard, but this was by no means an easy job. The 
cows had discovered some fresh grass growing in 
the shade of the high walls, and this made them deaf 
to all their master’s orders to quit the new-found 
pasturage. Seeing this, the farmer went up to the 
beast nearest to the door, and seizing her by the tail, 
tried, after the example of Cacus, to make her go out 
backward. But the farmer’s coercive measures were 
even less fortunate than his persuasive ones, for the 
cow, unaccustomed to this method of progression, 
clung fast to earth with her four feet, and remained 
as immovable as if made of bronze, bellowing la- 
mentably the while to show her disapproval of such 
treatment. 

This supernatural obstinacy on the part of the 
cow set the farmer thinking. 

It seemed evident, from this, that St. Philomela 
did not ratify the bargain just concluded between 
the cure and himself, and that, contrary to the opin- 


SAINT PHILOMELA 209 

ion of her man of business, she preferred the cows to 
the money. 

He suddenly let go the tail, to which an instant be- 
fore he had been holding with all the stubborn tena- 
city of a Brahmin, and dashing up the stairs, four at 
a time, he entered the cure's room, terrified and pale, 
though covered with sweat, just as that worthy man 
was about to put the ecus away into one of the draw- 
ers of his desk. 

The cure, hearing the door open, turned round 
and recognized the farmer. 

“Well, my good man," said he, “what is it now?" 

“It is this, father, that St. Philomela is displeased 
with the bargain you have made." 

“What makes you think that?" 

“The cattle won't come out of your yard." 

“And you think from that " 

“That she wants the cattle, not the money.'* 

“We'll see about that." 

“How?" 

“Your cows won't follow you, will they?" 

“No; devil take 'em!" 

“And you are convinced that it is St. Philomela 
who stops them from leaving?" 


210 MASTEE ADAM THE CALABEIAH 


‘^Rather.” 

‘‘Well, the money that you gave me is in that 
drawer. If, as you think, the saint prefers the cows 
and not the money, she would not only prevent the 
cows from going out, but she would prevent the 
money from going in. One miracle is no more dif- 
ficult than the other. ’’ 

“Very good,” said the farmer; “then try to shove 
in that drawer. You will see that it won’t shut.” 

The cure assented with a nod of the head and 
pushed the drawer, which went in as if by magic. 

“Ah !” cried the farmer in amazement. 

“You see?” said the cure. 

“Well, but what does that prove?” 

“It proves that we were committing a grave error, 
my dear friend,” replied the cure, putting the key of 
the drawer into his pocket. “I thought that the 
saint wished for the money and not for the beasts.” 

“Yes.” 

“You thought that she wanted the beasts and not 
the money.” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, as I told you, we were both mistaken. The 
saint wants both the money and the cattle.” 


SAINT PHILOMELA 


211 


“That’s true,” replied the farmer; “I was 
wrong. ” 

And he went home without either his cattle or his 
money. 

Next day the cure of Mugnano refused 100,000 
ducats which were offered by a speculator for the 
relics of St. Philomela. 

It will be easily understood that with my passion 
for investigation I could not stay two months in 
Naples without paying my respects to the saint who 
had begun her career with such a miracle. I warned 
my guide that we were in for a long day’s outing, 
and then, on a beautiful morning in October, we set 
out for Mugnano. 

The fame of St. Philomela was still so recent that 
there were as yet no outward signs in the village of 
the material benefits of her protection. Mugnano is 
a pretty town, picturesque and elegant, as is every 
little corner of Italy where a few houses have 
chanced to group themselves at the foot of a church. 
Nothing, however, turned me aside from my errand, 
and I went straight to St. Philomela, whom I had 
come to visit. 

Like St. Rosalie, of Palermo, the Virgin of Mug- 


212 MASTER ADAM THE CALABRIAN 

nano lies in the altar which is consecrated to her and 
which serves also as shrine. She is clothed in a robe 
of blue and gold and crowned with white roses, 
being a pretty waxen shape, modeled on the very 
bones which the cure of Mugnano had brought from 
Rome. She did not, at this time, possess the grand 
cordon of St. Januarius, with which His Majesty 
the King of Naples afterward decorated her on the 
occasion of the coming of his heir — a palpable proof 
that he recognized this second miracle as being no 
less remarkable than the first. 

As the church, apart from the rich votive offerings 
with which it was hung, possessed no other objects 
of interest, I begged the guide, now that I had seen 
the saint, to take me to the spot where the miracle 
had taken place. Accordingly we went out by the 
little door, opening into a damp passage, and found 
ourselves in the Courtyard of the Cows. 

There I was immediately attracted by a fresco 
representing the miracle. The painter had chosen 
the moment when the farmer, tugging at the tail of 
his disobedient cow, began to suspect that there was 
probably some supernatural reason for the animal's 
obstinacy. This effect was rather cleverly obtained. 


SAINT PHILOMELA 


213 


and the expression of the good man’s face was a sin- 
gular combination of fear and amazement. 

This fresco astonished me, for it exhibited at the 
same time an absence of technique and an artistic 
sense which indicated the self-taught painter. In 
short, it was a piece of work much above the level of 
the street paintings which one sees everywhere in 
Italy. 

“Do you know, that fresco is not at all bad,” said 
I, turning to my cicerone. 

“Rather!” he answered, “I should think it isn’t. 
It was done by Master Adam, the Calabrian. He 
came from Nicotera expressly to paint it.” 

“Who is this Master Adam ?” I asked. 

“You don’t know him?” 

“It is the first time I have heard his name.” 

“Ah, well, since you are always asking me for the 
stories belonging to the places we visit,” answered 
my guide, “I will tell you one now.” 

And he narrated to me the history which I, in my 
turn, have told my readers. 


[the end.] 










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